Stolen Memory
by Renard Noir
Summary: A chance meeting at a ministry function leads to an eventful evening with a surprising consequence. Years later, a prophecy is revealed to Amelia Lizot and La Societe de Sang that foretells of a way to permanently rid the world of muggles based on the recently unearthed six ancient texts written in the early 1400's that detail the use of six masteries to create the ultimate weapon.
1. Chapter 1

George Weasley was lounging at his kitchen table in a white cotton t-shirt and striped flannel pajama pants thoroughly enjoying a piece of syrup-drenched French toast and a warm cup of coffee when a tawny brown owl carrying the morning edition of the Daily Prophet began rambunctiously tapping on the window.

"Uhh, alright. Give me a minute, will ya? It's much too early for that noise!" With a groan he hoisted himself up from his chair and staggered to the window, pulling it open and letting the small owl in. The owl haphazardly fluttered over to the table knocking into George's bowl and hooted, clearly begging for a tasty morsel.

"Here, take this, and be gone with ya!" George hissed after removing the paper and tossing the owl a slice of ham. He plopped back into his chair and kicked his feet up on the table before lazily removing the string and unfolding the owl's delivery to read what Rita Skeeter would consider news for the day.

Glancing down at the paper his eyes went wide and coffee spurted from his lips as he cracked up, deep full laughter bubbling up from his belly. "Oh man, 'Mione's gonna love this," he whispered to himself before calling out up the stairs to his flat mate. "Oy! 'Mione! Get down here for breakfast before I eat all the toast again!"

Hermione Granger was already walking down the stairs fully dressed in dark slacks and a blue button down shirt ready for her day at work at the Ministry of Magic as the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It had been five years since her graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and it hadn't taken her long to climb the ranks at the ministry with her brilliant crusade for magical creature equality.

"I swear George, you eat my breakfast again and you can find a new best friend… and a new flat mate!" While Hermione had remained close to both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, she had become even closer to Ron's older brother George. His prankster personality and her sharp wit balanced each other out and allowed them to become fast friends. They had moved into a London flat together three years ago a few miles from Diagon Alley and had been living together ever since.

George picked up the paper and tossed it over to her side of the table as she sat down with a cup of tea, a slice of French toast, and a bowl of fruit. "You should check out the front page. I reckon your friend Rita finally got something right!" he chuckled.

Hermione set down her cup after taking a long sip of warm tea, unfolded the Daily Prophet, and promptly screamed, "You've got to be kidding me!" There, on the front page, was an enlarged picture of none other than the bushy haired witch herself just beneath the headline: **Hermione Granger - Year's Most Eligible Witch!**

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"Gin, honey, is everything ready?" Harry Potter called out to his wife from the living room. It was ten till six and everyone would be arriving is forty minutes for the surprise party that they were throwing Hermione. After five years of hard work his friend's bill to grant all house elves the right to pay, vacation, and benefits had finally been passed. What started out as S.P.E.W. when they were just students had become her passion and he couldn't have been more proud of her for what she had accomplished. At twenty two his friend was the youngest department head in history.

Ginny Weasley was just putting the finishing touches on the cake that she had baked for the party. The icing read, "Way To Go Hermione" and had a small image of a house elf below it. "I'll have everything out in about fifteen minutes, Harry!" she replied to her husband. "I've just got to finish up this cake and then we will be all set."

Striding through into the kitchen, Harry wrapped his arms around his wife and gently kissed her neck. "You know I just want her to have a good time. She never lets go anymore," he whispered. It was most certainly the truth. Since they had graduated, Hermione had thrown herself into her work. She had shocked everyone with her professional prowess, but had sacrificed her personal life completely. He had tried three different times a few years back to set her up with one of his auror friends, but every time after the blind dates she had politely informed him that they weren't her type and she didn't want to see them again. As far as he knew, she hadn't been on a single other date since.

"She really does need to let loose a bit. She's an amazing woman, but she's got to learn to relax," Ginny admitted. "Maybe now that this bill had passed, things will be different. It has been her main focus since school so she's got to have some extra time available."

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Lavender Weasley grabbed the small gift wrapped in teal wrapping paper and white ribbon from the coffee table and shrunk it to fit into her purse before heading out the door. "You ready Ron-Ron?" she asked her husband as she took his hand. Before he could answer she spun around and with a pop they apparated over to the Potter's home.

"Oy, woman! You could at least wait for me to say yes!" he griped while pulling his arm away from his wife. "You know I hate it when you do that!"

Lavender just giggled back at him as she opened the door and walked in through the door. "Hello Harry! How are you doing?" she queried when she saw Harry waiting to greet them on the other side of the entry way. "Thanks for inviting us tonight!"

Harry glanced behind Lavender at his best friend whose cheeks were tinged Weasley-temper-red. "Apparated him again, did ya Lavender? Glad you two could make it! George should be bringing Hermione over any minute. Everyone else is in the living room waiting."

He watched the couple walk away into the living room and waited patiently by the door for his friend to arrive. Less than five minutes later, he opened the door to see a confused Hermione muttering at George with an arched eyebrow, "I thought we were going to the Three Broomsticks. What are we doing at Harry's house?"

"Well hello to you, too, 'Mione!" he quipped, shooting her a crooked grin. "Why don't you come on inside and see?" He heard grumbling as he was walking inside and chuckled, calling over his shoulder at her, "Ah, come on. A little spontaneity never hurt anyone!"

Hermione walked behind Harry and George into the living room to shouts of "Surprise!" Glancing around the room she could see Neville Longbottom and his girlfriend Luna Lovegood, Bill and Fleur Weasley, Ron and Lavender Weasley, Seamus Finnigan and his girlfriend Angelina Johnson, along with Harry and Ginny Potter. "Alright, what is all of this about?" she questioned.

"We wanted to have you over and say congratulations, 'Mione! We know that ever since spew you have been working hard for house elves and with your bill being passed we wanted you to know how proud we all are of you. Congratulations!" Harry spun her around and pointed to the cake sitting in the middle of the table.

"For the love of Merlin, Harry. How many times do I have to tell you? It wasn't spew. It was S.P.E.W." She looked down at the cake with the smiling house elf and couldn't help but throw him one of her famous cheshire cat grins. "Thank you guys. This was really thoughtful."

With a loud pop, Harry opened up what would be the first of many bottles of champagne and filled each of the glasses that had been set out on the table. Grinning ear to ear he looked around the room, wrapped his arm around Hermione, and toasted, "To Hermione Granger! Now that your law has passed, we hope you get laid!"

While everyone else gathered around the room shouted "Here here!" amidst raucous laughter, Harry rubbed the back of his head where he had been cuffed for his less than appropriate toast. "I swear Harry," she whispered, "you are damn lucky that I consider you family."

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In a large office at the top of a tall tower, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall sat at her desk sorting through a stack of communications that had collected over the course of the day. It was getting closer and closer to the start of the winter holidays and she had been so busy sorting out which students and professors were remaining at the school that she had managed to amass a large number of letters that required responses before she could retire for the evening.

She quickly signed her name to a letter to the Hogwarts Board of Governors regarding the date and agenda for the next governor's meeting before sealing the letter with emerald wax stamped "MM". She took a small sip of her warm chamomile tea and popped a ginger newt into her mouth while reaching for the next letter in the stack. A small sigh escaped from her lips upon realizing that she had grabbed yet another letter from the Minister of Magic.

Slitting the wax seal and unfolding the letter, she read:

_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall,_

_You are hereby invited to attend the annual Ministry of Magic holiday ball on Saturday, December the 20__th__, 2003 at 7pm. In addition to the ball, there will be a short presentation to present Miss Hermione Granger with the award for Outstanding Service to the Magical Community. Please R.S.V.P. by return owl no later than December the 15__th__._

_Regards,_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt_

_Minister of Magic_

As she placed the invitation back down onto her oak desk, she slowly closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to wander to the young witch being honored. Her previous star pupil had become a close friend shortly after her graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hermione would frequently visit Hogwarts for tea and chess in the year following but quickly became exceedingly busy as she began to advance at the ministry.

Over the years, frequent visits had deteriorated into occasional visits; occasional visits had given way to yearly visits with intermittent letters. Eventually, it came to the point that she never saw the young witch, and they only exchanged the odd letter about their respective careers or some new advancement in transfiguration.

Minerva's fingers drifted up to rub the back of her neck and she sighed again. She missed her lively and fierce debate partner. The intelligent and sharp witted woman had been one of the few people able to challenge her since her friend Albus Dumbledore had died and she couldn't help but be a bit bitter about the fact that they had not remained close.

_There is no reason to be melancholy, _she thought. _You are expected to appear at the holiday ball so why not talk to her and invite her for tea. _With that thought, she wrote out an elegant R.S.V.P. response in emerald green ink and set it in the stack of outgoing mail to be sent out for the evening.

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A young brunette witch was leaning on a pillow propped up against her headboard reading an article on the possibility of energy transformation in the latest copy of Transfiguration Today. Transfiguration had always been Hermione's passion and upon graduating she had wanted to pursue a career in the field by studying under a transfiguration master. However, in her third year she had made the decision that she would only take an apprenticeship if it was offered by Professor McGonagall as she wanted to study under the best master in the field.

When she had graduated, she had waited months to see if Professor McGonagall would discuss an apprenticeship with her. When the offer never came, she had taken the job in the ministry to continue her goals from S.P.E.W. She still kept up with the latest transfiguration developments and even though she hadn't earned a mastery, Hermione was widely regarded as a prodigy in the field.

A week ago, after the announcement was made that her House Elf Rights bill had passed, she had received an unexpected letter from Madame Deivrot. Madame Deivrot was the professor of transfiguration at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France and was considered the second most authority in the field just behind Minerva McGonagall. The letter had requested a meeting with Hermione to discuss the possibility of taking a position as her apprentice for five years.

Shocked and quite excited to get the offer, Hermione had seriously considered taking the meeting, even going so far as to discuss the offer with George over lunch. In the end though, she had made the decision that as her friends and family were in England, she just couldn't give up her current career and move out of the country, no matter how intriguing the offer had been.

Nimble fingers smoothed out the wrinkles in her lavender satin nightgown and she waved out her hand to dim the lights in her bedroom before sinking under her comforter. As she closed her eyes and her breathing evened out, her thoughts remained fixed on the subject of transfiguration and the image of a small tabby cat floated through her mind.

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George Weasley was frantically pacing around the living room of his flat in his slightly wrinkled but quite dapper new tuxedo. With a quick glance down to his wristwatch he inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh realizing that for the first time in her life, Hermione was most certainly going to be late. "'Mione, are you ready yet? We have to be there in less than five minutes! Bloody hell woman, you're the guest of honor!" he bellowed up the stairs.

Hermione passed a washrag under the faucet, wrung it out, and placed the cool cloth against her stiff neck letting her eyes flutter closed. Every since the Triwizard Tournament she had hated being the center of attention, and tonight, there was no way for her to avoid it. The presentation for her award was to occur at seven followed by dinner and the annual Ministry of Magic holiday ball. Thoughts of the speech that she was required to give were causing her temples to throb and a slight sheen of sweat to appear on her neck.

"I will be down in just a minute, George!" she called back to her friend. George had agreed to accompany her as her "date" for the evening to hopefully help get her out of dancing with one of the many wizards who had read the article published by Rita Skeeter the week prior. Opening her eyes and inwardly cursing the unregistered animagus for the article, Hermione steeled her nerves and briskly walked down the stairs to meet her date.

George looked her up an down as she descended, letting out a low whistle followed by what could on be described as a howl. His friend was wearing a thin strapped, sparkling black dress that fell softly over her chest in a v-neck. Spinning her around, he could see that the back was cut down to the small of her back and you could see the pull of her muscles and a large expanse of milky white skin. Finally, a long slit split the dress from her ankle to mid thigh exposing a long, smooth, and toned leg. "Damn 'Mione! I'm going to have to beat them away with a stick!"

"Oh, if only they knew I didn't fancy wizards," she quipped. "I swear if I have to listen to one more person call me the most eligible witch of the year I am going to go into hiding in France."

"Ah 'Mione, it won't be so bad. Just have fun and let loose for an evening. Maybe you can find yourself a nice witch to dance with!" George winked saucily at her and Hermione groaned back.

"I've told you George, I don't want my picture plastered on the front of the Daily Prophet anymore. Besides, can you imagine the headlines that evil woman would come up with if I actually gave her something to write about?" she asked. "Let's get going, Kingsley would be horrified if I were to be late."

She threaded her hand through George's arm and he gave her a small grin to assure her that everything would be fine as they walked through the front door of the flat and into the nearest alleyway to apparate to the Ministry. "Here goes nothing," she whispered and with a loud pop they disappeared.

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At a minute till seven, the guest of honor and her date strode into the ballroom and quickly took their seats at the round table closest to the stage. Hermione nodded to the Minister of Magic and wrapped her delicate fingers around a tall glass of red wine, bringing it to her lips and tipping it back to down the entirety in one fluid motion in an effort to calm her nerves.

Almost immediately, the Minister's voice began booming out across the crowd. "Tonight, in addition to the annual holiday ball, we are here to honor a witch who has spent the last five years devoted to bringing equality to the treatment of magical creatures around the world. From her efforts to provide support and care to those bitten by werewolves, to her work to revoke the laws requiring magical creature tracking, to the recent passage of her House Elf Rights bill, Miss Hermione Granger has worked tirelessly for a great cause. It is my great pleasure to present her with the Ministry of Magic's newest award for Outstanding Service to the Magical Community!"

A roar of applause reverberated and echoed throughout the ballroom and with a whispered "Knock 'em dead!" from George, Hermione stood from her table and walked to the makeshift stage. Taking a deep breath, she held her wand to her throat and whispered the sonorous charm to begin her speech.

"I greatly appreciate this honor from the Ministry of Magic and the Minister himself. However, I must dedicate this award to the countless magical creatures in our world who have spent far too many years living amongst us as second class citizens. My efforts to correct previous wrongs against these creatures represent the work in my life that I am most proud of as these amazing creatures truly do deserve nothing less than an equal place in our world. I hope to be able to continue my work in this field for many years to come, and I look forward to the cooperation of the magical community. Thank you."

After cancelling the sonorous charm, Hermione quickly left the stage to return to her seat next to George at the table. The red haired wizard leaned over and with a slight chuckle whispered, "See, that wasn't so bad!" The flustered witch turned and gave him her best glare as the Minister announced the beginning of the feast and the decorated plates along the tabletop filled with roast turkey, honey ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, casserole, and French bread.

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When the guests at the holiday ball had finished eating, the tables were cleared from the ballroom and soft tendrils of music began floating through the air. George turned to her and grabbed her hand in his, leaned in, and whispered softly into her ear, "Excuse me Miss Granger, may I have this dance?" As she giggled, he whisked her off into the middle of the floor and they began slowly moving in time to a waltz.

"You really are an amazing dancer George," she said while grinning up at her partner. Two years ago they had taken dance lessons together for two weeks because she was tired of being unable to dance at the various ministry functions held throughout the year. It had taken many nights of sore shins and crushed toes, but eventually they had learned to dance quite beautifully together.

"Ah, but it is all about who you are dancing with, 'Mione. I only dance this well with you," he responded. He flashed her a brilliant smile, enjoying being able to dance with his best friend again. As the music crescendoed, he spun her out and back into his arms. "Have you seen her yet?"

A scowl quickly fell over her face replaced by a void expression with a carefully arched eyebrow as she succinctly stated, "I don't know who you are talking about."

"Oh come on hun, we both know you are excited to see her. She always comes to the ministry events so you know she has to be here." He was the only person she had spoke with about why she had fallen out of touch with the esteemed Headmistress. She had found herself falling for the woman and had distanced herself because she wasn't comfortable with her newfound preferences. Over the years, Hermione had grown to understand and accept the fact that she fancied witches, but once they had fallen out of touch, she had never tried to reconnect with her mentor.

She let out a soft sigh of resignation and whispered, "Look George, not tonight. Just dance with me and enjoy the evening. No more of this." She had spent years admiring the woman but she had accepted that they would never be close again and she didn't want to spend the evening discussing it when she could be having fun with her best friend.

As he nodded his head in acceptance, the music changed to a quick tango and he winked at her. She tossed him her famous cheshire cat grin and pulled him closer to her chest as they began gliding across the floor in a sensual tangle of limbs. This was their favorite dance and they had spent months perfecting it after finishing their lessons.

When the song drew to a close, he dipped her down to mere inches above the floor and held her there for a moment before pulling her back up into his arms and placing a quick kiss on her cheek. "Thank you, I do believe that was our best tango in years!" she exclaimed. "Let's go grab some drinks." She pulled him along to the table filled with refreshments, neither noticing the emerald eyes burning into them from the front of the room.

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Champagne in hand, she stood scanning the dance floor and watching the guests of the ball dance merrily to the music. As the music changed to a tango, her lips quirked into a grin at the mass of dance partners that quickly left the floor. _Not many have what it takes to do the tango, _she thought. Then she noticed a pair of dancers quickly captivating the onlookers as they glided across the room in each other's arms.

She instantly recognized the man as George Weasley, but couldn't see the woman's face. She had long, straight brown hair flowing over her shoulders and her sparkling black dress with it's almost nonexistent back left little to the imagination. She could see the woman's taut muscles rippling across her back as she moved and her eyes were caught on the sway of her hips as she wrapped her leg around her partner.

_Merlin, what a woman, _she thought as she watched the couple who danced so comfortably together. _They must be lovers._ As the last notes floated across her ears, the woman was dipped to the floor and looked up at her partner. _Hermione?_ As soon as she saw the woman's face she recognized her former student. Her pulse began to quicken and she immediately pushed herself to dismiss the previous thoughts she had had.

As the couple left the dance floor, her emerald eyes followed them, focusing on their mannerisms. When they reached the refreshment table and a group of friends, she saw the woman stiffen and turn to walk out on the balcony. _Curious. Curiosity killed the cat._ With that thought, she followed the young woman, determined to find out what could be wrong and just maybe rekindle her long lost friendship.

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As she walked up to the refreshment table with George, Hermione reached for another glass of champagne. Just as she was picking it up, a tall wizard with dark hair and blue eyes leaned over to her an asked, "Hey cutie, care for a dance?"

She immediately stiffened and quickly replied, "Sorry, I'm done dancing for the evening. Maybe next time." Holding the glass she turned on her toes and darted to the nearest exit leading to the balcony, wanting to avoid any more dance offers.

Standing against the railing while the cool evening air breezed across her warm skin she closed her eyes and tipped her glass. As the liquid poured easily down her throat, she let her thoughts analyze the last five years and the feats that she had accomplished.

While it was true that she had made incredible progress with reforming the laws for magical creatures, she couldn't help the familiar feeling of failure that was bubbling up in her chest. Her professional life was nothing but success after success, but what was the cost?

She had denied herself a personal life in fear that the bad press would hinder her progress in her work with the ministry. As one of the Golden Trio, Hermione knew that if she were to actually date a witch and follow her heart her relationship would be plastered across the media and she just couldn't take that risk after all of her hard work.

It was a decision that she had spent many sleepless nights considering. It was the right decision at the time, she was sure of it, but looking back now the young witch couldn't help but want things to change in her life. She wanted to take risks, to be herself. Most of all, she wanted to fall in love. With an exaggerated sigh, she resolved that she _would _make the change, no matter the consequences.

"Why are you hiding out here alone, Miss Granger? Certainly you should be inside with your friends celebrating." Hermione took in a sharp breath and her cheeks instantly flushed as the soft lilt carried across the air and into her ears.

Slowly, almost reverently, she turned around and her eyes caught onto the tall woman before her in an emerald green evening gown that had long sleeves and draped in an asymmetrical cut across her toned legs. A string of pearls graced her neck and her long black hair was pulled back into a traditional bun with a handful of curls remaining to frame her face.

As Hermione's eyes stopped to reflect the gaze of deep green ones that sparkled in the moonlight, she couldn't help the flush in her cheeks from spreading down her neck and across her chest. She swallowed another sip of champagne to wet her suddenly dry throat before gently replying, "Good evening, Headmistress. I was just getting some fresh air."

"Please, Miss Granger, do call me Minerva." The elder which stated softly, glad to have managed to keep the husk from creeping into her voice. The woman standing in front of her was nothing short of breathtaking.

"It has been a long time, Minerva, but there is no need for you to call me Miss Granger," she quipped with a sly grin.

Minerva walked forward and leaned against the railing next to her. "Of course, Hermione. Now, why are you really out here?" She slowly turned her head to glance at the younger witch and saw a brief flash of emotion cross her eyes before it faded as she plastered on a smile.

"I will admit that I am not entirely a fan of large events, particularly when I am the guest of honor."

The elder witch could see that Hermione was quite uncomfortable with being the center of attention during the event. Pushing aside the slight hesitation, she decided to offer her an escape if nothing more than to provide a moment of respite for her previously favorite pupil. "I was just about to return to Hogwarts for the evening. Would you care to join me for a drink and a game of chess?"

Hermione knew that she should stay for the remainder of the ball, but she had made herself a promise that she was determined to keep. The woman that she had admired for years was offering her an escape and a quiet evening. With an effort to keep her voice calm and nonchalant she responded, "I would love to, Minerva. Give me just a moment to say goodbye to George and I will meet you at the castle gates."

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A/N: Please review! I have quite the idea for this story and I hope you will enjoy it!


	2. Chapter 2

Always true to her word, ten minutes after leaving the balcony Hermione Granger appeared directly in front of the gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had been two long years since she had last visited the castle and looking out over the snow covered grounds caused her heart to flutter as fond memories of her school years swam through her consciousness. Only a soft and delicate hand pressing gently against her forearm and the creaking sound of a gate drifting open managed to bring her out of her reverie.

Silence filled the air as the two elegant women traipsed side by side up the path to the castle and entered through large and familiar oak doors. Both women were content just to be in the other's presence and intrigued by the idea of spending time together after such a long break in what had previously been a very close friendship. Minerva's quick, clipped gait came to a pause as she reached the stone gargoyle protecting the Headmistress' office and with a whispered "Pacem et Unitatem" the staircase appeared.

Minerva held out an arm and pointed upwards. "After you, dear." The tiniest of grins graced Hermione's features upon hearing the endearment and she ascended into the office with the elder witch on her heels. After stepping out of the stairwell, she allowed her eyes to carefully catalog the room. From the large mahogany desk on which each item appeared to be purposefully placed for maximum efficiency to the plush purple sofa and chaise sitting in front of the currently roaring fire, the room had not changed at all.

"I love what you've done with the place," Hermione quipped with a sarcastic smirk as Minerva walked into the room and reached to pull her antique chess set from its place atop a bookshelf. The chessmen made of ebony and boxwood from Jaques of London had been a gift from her father when she was a little girl and ranked quite highly amongst her most prized possessions. With only an arch of a finely sculpted brow in response, she handed the box to Hermione and returned to the corner of the room to stand in front of a large curio cabinet.

Hermione was reverently running the tips of her fingers over the smooth wood of the black knight piece appreciating the delicate craftsmanship when Minerva's lilt next graced her ears, "Would you care for a drink?" She had indulged in several glasses of champagne at the ball and still felt a bit flushed but made the decision to further her indulgence a bit more for the evening.

"I could acquiesce to one glass. What are you having?" With a tacit familiarity her mentor informed her that she preferred single malt scotch and had several varieties including Oban 18, Dalwhinnie 15, Lagavulin 16, and Macallan 18.

"If you really want to share, I would love the Oban 18. I prefer scotch from the West Highlands and the honey character puts it a notch above the Macallan in my opinion." For a moment, Minerva simply stood stock still regarding the younger witch and wondering when the woman before her had become so familiar with her favorite drink. Regaining her hold on the evening, she gracefully doled out two neat pours and set the glasses on the small table where Hermione had readied the board.

Hermione lifted the small glass to her nose inhaling the heady scent of the drink before taking a generous sip. She savored the heavily flavored liquid before swallowing and flicked her tongue across her lips in appreciation of the taste. As she advanced her pawn to start the game she added with a smile, "It is just as I remember. I have made the correct choice."

No longer able to contain her curiosity, the elder witch queried, "Who are you and when did you become so familiar with scotch?" The arched brow and pondering expression with curiosity playing behind emerald orbs caused Hermione to chuckle with mirth at eliciting such a response from the normally guarded Headmistress.

"I have been tasting scotch since I was quite young, Minerva. My father John had an extensive collection, so I was raised with a similar appreciation. Mum and him have given me a few new bottles every year since graduation and we went on a vacation together last year to visit several of the Scotland distilleries." Hermione took another much longer sip of the drink before placing the glass back down on the table and bringing her knight into play to counter Minerva's previous moves.

As she listened to the younger witches explanation with rapt attention, Minerva couldn't help but to feel excited about the new information being presented to her. Hermione had always been a talented and intriguing witch, but it was apparent now that there was so much more to her under the surface. More that Minerva was quickly realizing that she wanted to unabashedly explore.

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Nearly two hours later the Headmistress' office was ringing with raucous laughter and the chessmen on the table lay all but forgotten. Hermione had regaled the older woman with tales of the vacation in Scotland which had led to Minerva sharing her own memories of visiting many of the same distilleries with her parents before the war with Grindelwald. As if no time at all had passed since their previous visits the light conversation had diverted to playful banter and discussions of academia and magical philosophy.

Taking a sip of her fifth glass of scotch, Hermione narrowed her eyes at the woman sitting across from her and accused, "You know, Minerva, if I didn't know better I would think that you brought me here to get me drunk and rile me up with your ridiculous notions on transfiguration intentionally!"

Feeling quite lightheaded from a night of drinking and having already thrown caution and propriety to the wind by providing a few more embarrassing anecdotes from her youth, Minerva stood and walked over to the chaise that Hermione was lounging against. The younger woman had removed her heels and was leaning back, propped haphazardly against her elbows, with her head tipped back and her eyes closed as her chest rose and fell from her steady breathing. Her moist lips were slightly parted and again a pink tongue flicked out to lap up a small drop of scotch that had remained, causing Minerva to bite the inside of her lower lip as a flush danced across her chest.

Leaning down and placing her lips mere inches from the brunette's left ear she whispered huskily, "What if that was my intention?"

Chocolate eyes immediately snapped open as Hermione realized her friend's new proximity and immediately darkened with lust at seeing the stormy gaze settled upon her from emerald orbs. Releasing a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding and swallowing to regain a semblance of clarity she quietly replied, "If that is the case, Minerva, I believe that this evening will be quite a resounding success."

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Long ebony lashes fluttered open as a stifled yawn died on rose colored lips. Glancing towards the clock ticking soundly against her bedroom wall, Minerva observed that it was just past three in the morning. Never one for being able to fall back asleep, she arched her back and casually stretched her limbs, gasping when her long and dainty fingers grazed something curiously warm and smooth behind her.

Unsure of what she would find, the witch slowly rolled over in her bed to gaze upon a mass of chestnut curls spread loosely across a pillow and the naked form of a younger witch snuggled deep into her sheets. Panicking, she wracked her brain attempting to remember the events of the previous evening and was met with a violent throbbing in her temples. Placing her fingertips on the source of the feeling she let out a whimper as flashes of the evening began flickering like an old film through her mind.

As if observing a disjointed memory in a pensive, second long glimpses of the her actions the night before appeared all at once. Flash. _Velvety soft lips pressed against hers in urgency as her sinewy fingers grazed the delicate insides of a stockinged thigh. _Flash. _Her sharp tongue darted over a pebbling dark nipple as its owner let out a soft moan of pleasure. _Flash. _A whispered transfiguration spell gave way to the heavenly warm feeling of slipping into another woman. _Flash. _Deep brown eyes rolled back amidst whispered promises of love intermixed with cries of ecstasy. _As suddenly as they had arrived, the memories flitted away, leaving a stunned and stuttering Minerva McGonagall with a rising feeling of panic in her chest as her heart thudded wildly in an effort to break free from her ribcage.

Launching herself from the bed as gracefully as possible so as to not awaken the younger witch, she ran towards the en suite and fell to the floor as the contents of her stomach emptied into the basin. Slowly she regained her composure, standing and splashing water onto her face from the sink while looking aimlessly into the mirror. _What have I done? Hermione. A former student. This simply cannot happen. _With a deep and resigned sigh, Minerva began doing the same exact thing she had done every morning for the last five years; she left Minerva the woman behind and became the venerable Headmistress McGonagall.

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It was several hours later when the young witch in her bed finally awoke to the soft rays of sun drifting in through the partially curtained window. Popping her neck to relieve some tension she spread her fingers and dug them into soft silken sheets. _Bliss. _That was the only thought prevalent in her mind as she cautiously opened her eyes to revel in her surroundings. After an unexpected encounter at the ministry's holiday ball and an incredible evening of chess and drinks she had finally confessed her feelings to the woman she had loved for years, and the older witch had actually accepted.

Hermione slowly rose, grinning from ear to ear, and realized that Minerva must have woken earlier as the bedroom was otherwise unoccupied and the door to the office was closed. After taking a shower and transfiguring her dress into a casual pair of black slacks and a crimson button down top, she made her way out of the bedroom.

Upon entering the office, she stopped dead in her tracks, mind reeling. There in front of her sitting up perfectly straight on the sofa near the fire was the picture image of Headmistress McGonagall. Her lips were pulled firm into a straight line and her eyes were hard and emotionless with no evidence of the woman that she had joined with last eve. As emerald eyes raised to meet her own, a flash of guilt ripped across the surface only to be quickly buried again as the woman cleared her throat.

"Miss Granger, good morning. I trust you slept well?" _Miss Granger? Miss Granger? How can she call me Miss Granger after screaming Hermione all night? This can't be real._

With a twinge of pain expressed on her delicate features she whispered, "I thought we had agreed that Hermione was preferable to Miss Granger, Minerva."

The Headmistress wasted no time, launching into the speech she had been reflecting on for the last several hours. With a hardened edge to her voice and a void expression she explained to the younger woman, "Miss Granger, I apologize for what occurred here last evening. It was a momentary lapse of judgment and I can assure you that it won't happen again. I am sure that you will agree that this was a mistake as clearly there can be nothing between us due to the fact that you have quite recently been a student under my care here at this institution."

The witch's voice had left no room for disagreement. The statements had been made as a factual presentation of obviousness that no one who had met her would ever have dared to challenge. Hermione knew that any response outside of acceptance would only cause the emptiness settling into her chest to ignite with sorrow and so she steeled her own emotions and with as much confidence as she could muster she responded, "I believe you are correct. Good day, Headmistress," and stepped past the woman to flee from the school grounds before her tears began to fall.

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Dreary winter days became weeks and on a cold morning in February Hermione found herself, for the third day in a row, bent over the loo with the most uncomfortable feeling of nausea that she had experienced in her twenty two years of life. The frail looking woman groaned audibly as she dry heaved again while George held back her long locks and pressed a cool compress to the back of her neck. "Come on love, enough of this. We have to get you to St. Mungo's. Three days you have been chunking and it's the first time I've seen you ill since I met ya!"

George had been attempting to convince her to visit a healer since the first day when she had fumbled down the stairs looking like death warmed over in a lopsided black robe and declared that she would be owling in sick. Sitting against the cold tile in her bathroom now, though, she knew she couldn't forestall the visit any longer. "Fine George, I consent. I'll head over to see someone this afternoon," she whispered.

"Oh no you don't, love! I'm chaperoning. We are leaving as soon as you have had a shower." With that declaration, he gently kissed the top of her head and left her side to go get dressed and let St. Mungo's know they would be on their way shortly.

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"When did you first begin to feel ill, Miss Granger?" the healer questioned while running another quick diagnostic spell on the woman in the hospital bed before her. So far she had been unable to locate any evidence of a flu or stomach virus causing the young witch's reported symptoms.

Hermione reflected on the question momentarily before replying, "I guess I felt a bit nauseous on Monday, but it has only been the past three days that I have actually been sick in the morning."

"In the morning? You haven't been sick at any other point throughout the day," the older healer queried with a curious expression.

Again the younger woman quietly reflected before answering with a sure and concise, "Nope. Just the mornings." At this response the mediwitch whispered a different diagnostic spell and repeated the process of swinging her wand across Hermione's abdomen.

Upon seeing the flash of white light resulting from the diagnostic the woman gave a soft smile and informed her patient, "Well, Miss Granger, congratulations are in order! You are six weeks pregnant!" When she didn't hear a reply while marking the young woman's chart she looked up only to find a very unconscious Hermione Granger. "Oh, dear."

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An hour later, after the healer had administered a calming draught and left the room, George Weasley gently placed a firm hand on his friend's shoulder and shook her awake. With heavy lidded eyes and a strange taste in her mouth, Hermione took stock of her surroundings. She was still in the same hospital bed in St. Mungo's and she could see someone with bright red hair sitting in a chair to the side of her bed.

_Why am I covered up? What happened… _she thought. As if answering the silent question, a light bulb went off in her brain and she suddenly remembered the last thing the older woman had stated before she had passed out. Eyes now wide with trepidation, Hermione turned to her friend hoping for some sort of confirmation that this was another one of his pranks. Over the years he had managed to pull one over on her several times, and this would surely be his most genius effort to date.

However, upon seeing the concerned look in those soft brown eyes, she realized this wasn't one of his clever schemes. A gasp escaped her lips as her hand raised to cover her mouth and tears began to well up in her eyes and spill over long lashes. "Hermione, who? Who did this to you?" the young man asked softly hoping to help her to remain calm and keep her conscious.

With a short sob and a few mumbled words she whispered, "I can't George. I just can't. I'm sorry." More sobs wracked her frail frame as she leaned back into the bed and tightly shut her eyes in an effort to block out the entirety of the world as it closed around her. "This is one secret I will take to my grave. I'm so sorry."

Standing quickly and wrapping his arms around the younger which, George sighed, "Hush love, we'll get through this. It will be okay, you'll see. Rest now. We can figure it all out later."

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While Hermione was well versed on muggle pregnancy and birth, she had no clue what to expect when carrying a magical child. The truth of the matter was that due to her preferences she hadn't given much thought at all to the idea of children. She was very conscious of the fact that she would likely begin to show in just a few weeks and so she had decided to make a trip to Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley to pick up a few resources about what to expect while she was expecting.

She opened the door to her favorite shop and began meandering around the large rooms with her right hand softly resting against her lower belly. Over the past several days, since finding out about her unexpected situation, she had grown accustomed to the idea that a new life was growing inside of her. While still quite flabbergasted and unsure about the future, she was sure of one thing; she loved this child.

With her thoughts consumed by what was to come she paid no attention as she was rounding the corner of the nearest shelf and walked directly into another person coming around the opposite end. She stumbled gracelessly and fell to her rear with a thud while exclaiming, "I am so sorry! I just wasn't paying any attention to where I was going!"

Emerald eyes shrouded in frustration took in the sight of her assailant before flashing with concern as she realized who had been knocked down. Taking a quick glance at the woman to ensure that she was not injured, Minerva found herself gazing a moment too long. _She looks well, almost as if she is glowing. _The older witch had always been able to see something in magical auras and though she couldn't put her finger on it, she was sure something about the young woman had changed.

"Miss Granger," she greeted before offering her hand to assist with lifting the woman before her up off of the ground. As she pulled Hermione to her feet, she removed any evidence of her previous concern from her face before adding, "I hope you have been well."

Staring into depths of emerald green and searching for any sign of emotion, Hermione was torn. Torn between how to react the older witch mere inches in front of her. _Scream at her. Cry. Run away, quickly. _In the end, she settled for a clipped, "Yes, Headmistress." The formality from the woman and the lack of any familiarity or fondness in her voice was crushing. A shot of adrenaline coursed hazardously through her veins causing her to tremble in a mixture of hurt and fear.

_How could she be so cold, so callous? _Hermione wondered. _Here she is, the mother of my child, and she can't even say my first name. _The young woman had spent several sleepless nights pondering the unpleasant situation between them and debating the idea of informing Minerva, if only to allow her a chance at being a part of the child's life. Seeing the way she was reacting to her now, she closed the book on that possibility without another moment's pause.

The Headmistress nodded slightly and with an air of indifference in her voice bid the younger woman good day and turned to continue perusing the selection of tomes along the shelves in the isle she had entered. At this action, Hermione felt the adrenaline in her veins morph into tendrils of lava hot rage. Without a single second of consideration, she raised her wand, pointed it at the back of the older witch's head and whispered, "Obliviate."

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After her run in with the Headmistress, Hermione had apparated back to her London flat and fallen into bed cursing herself for her reaction. While removing Minerva's memory of the events after the ministry ball would hopefully resolve the uncomfortable tension in their interactions, she had eliminated the possibility of ever sharing the news of their unborn child with the woman.

_How could I have been so careless? I had no right to take that from her. She behaved the way she did for a reason. She has always prided herself on propriety and putting her own feelings behind the needs of the wizarding world. Of course she would distance herself. What else had I honestly expected? _she wondered. _I didn't expect anything; it is what I wanted that is the problem. I wanted her love in return._

Abandoning herself to her thoughts she considered the events of the past few weeks and the way that they had irrevocably altered her life. She was a member of the Golden Trio and the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She was the youngest department head in history and had made groundbreaking strides in magical creature law reform. Any bit of information about her personal life would be plastered across the Daily Prophet by Rita Skeeter before you could say "fire whiskey".

The young woman could see it now, the headlines speculating about torrid love affairs and making postulations about who the mystery man in her life could be. She could hear the abrasive questions ringing in her ears as people judged her actions and berated her for her behavior. _I can't do this, _she thought solemnly. _I can't have my life put under a microscope when the world realizes I'm carrying a child. I won't raise a baby in that type of environment. I just won't._

With her face set in a resolute expression, the young woman reached into the drawer of her nightstand and grabbed a spare quill and a piece of parchment and began to write.

_Madame Deivrot,_

_I hope that this letter finds you well. I realize that I responded to you several weeks prior informing you that after careful consideration I would be unable to accept your offer for apprenticeship. I now believe that I made that decision in error. Over the past several weeks I have been considering my future and the direction that I would like for my life and have decided to take an apprenticeship under a transfiguration master to advance my abilities in that field._

_If you would still be willing to instruct me, I would greatly enjoy studying under you as I know you are held in only the highest regard by the transfiguration community and I could learn a great deal from you. However, I do understand if you have already accepted another apprentice and will work to find another master to instruct me. Thank you again for your consideration._

_Regards,_

_Hermione Granger_

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A steady hand raised a blue teacup to her lips as she took a small sip of the lightly flavored chamomile tea. "Thank you again for giving me this opportunity Madame Deivrot. I really can't tell you how excited I am to begin my apprenticeship," she stated while looking over the documents she had been given about her upcoming mastery training.

"Nonsense, dear. It is my pleasure. It isn't often that a master gets to train someone considered a prodigy in the field. Now please, call me Helene." She gave a soft smile to the younger witch before continuing, "I am afraid I must be off to a staff meeting but I have arranged for the academy's mediwitch to take you on a tour of the grounds before showing you to your new quarters. I believe that you two have met, her name is Gabrielle Delacour."

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The tall and lanky blonde woman was standing with her back to the hospital wing door checking her potions stores when she heard footsteps behind her. Spinning around gracefully to see a brunette witch enter the room she excitedly exclaimed, "Ah, 'Ermione! I was wondering when I would be seeing you! 'Elene said you would be arriving today, but she was not sure what time. It is so good to see you again!"

Hermione was relieved to see at least one friendly face in what would be her home for the foreseeable future. "Gabrielle, it is good to see you, too," she replied with a grin. "I trust you have been well?"

"Indeed!" the younger witch responded jubilantly, "'Elene 'as also informed me that you 'ave some concerns about medical treatment while you are 'ere. I am 'appy to say that I will be able to accommodate your requests and you 'ave no reason to worry about discretion or privacy. 'Ere at Beauxbatons, we always take care of our own."

The English witch had been greatly concerned that even with taking a job in a foreign country she would still have to be extremely cautious about information regarding her pregnancy being leaked to the press. She had informed Madame Deivrot that she was pregnant and that she was hoping to be able to raise the child at Beauxbatons while she completed her apprenticeship. Helene had reassured her that her quarters and the elves would be more than accommodating of her new addition and that the healer on staff had delivered multiple children for various professors during her tenure.

These reassurances had relieved Hermione's fears and made her positive that taking the apprenticeship in France had been the right decision. She knew that she was running away from her problems in England, but she had to put her child's future first and here she could raise the child away from prying eyes and ears while securing knowledge that would give her an even brighter future than her promising career at the Ministry of Magic would have.

Madame Deivrot was planning to retire from teaching in five years once Hermione's apprenticeship was completed and, provided that she had successfully completed the program, she would be given the position as Helene's replacement. In truth, the job offer had been a dream come true, and she found that for the first time in several weeks she was greatly looking forward to everything that the future had to offer.

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Just over nine hundred miles away, the Headmistress of Hogwarts sat stiffly at the center of the head table in the Great Hall speaking with her deputy, Professor Flitwick, over breakfast. Just as they were discussing the upcoming break and the budget for the following year a small white owl swooped overhead and dropped the morning's copy of the Daily Prophet into her hands.

While continuing her conversation with the diminutive professor, she unfolded the paper and skimmed the latest headlines. Halfway down the page, she paused mid sentence to re-read the headline: **Hermione Granger Resigns From Ministry! Takes Apprenticeship With Famed Transfiguration Master Madame Deivrot!**

An unfamiliar feeling of jealously reared up as Minerva McGonagall scanned the article which provided the information that the young witch had moved to France to work with the transfiguration master at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Unsure as to the origin of the feeling, the Headmistress refolded the paper and, after making a quick apology to her deputy for the interruption, resumed her prior discussion.

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A/N: This chapter was a bit shorter but brings us to what could be considered the end of the "prologue" of the story. Up next will be a time jump followed by an opportunity for our young witch to return to England. I will be on vacation for three weeks, but I do hope to be able to update at least a couple of chapters while I am away. Please review and let me know your thoughts on this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews! You guys inspired me to spend more of my holiday time writing! As for the questions asked by kellzbellz: The transfiguration spell I intentionally left vague. Minerva is a mistress of transfiguration and I fully believe that if anyone could completely alter their biological anatomy it would be her, and in a particularly inebriated state I don't believe that she would realize the potential consequences. As for an obliviated memory, once it is gone it is gone.

This is where the real fun begins. As I said the previous two chapters should be considered a "prologue" of sorts. This chapter takes us a little more than thirteen years into the future and the story shall continue on from there.

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August 25th, 2017 -

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It was exactly one week before the start of the fall semester at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that found the short Italian man pacing back and forth in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmistress' office while nearly wearing a hole into the stone floor beneath his feet. He had reached his destination over fifteen minutes prior and had been steadily pacing since then while guilt coursed through his veins, but he would not be deterred from his chosen course of action.

Summoning all of his Gryffindor courage, Dante Saramago cleared his throat and crisply stated "scientia est potentia" to the gargoyle which promptly slid to the side to reveal a revolving staircase. The short and rotund man ran a pudgy hand through his cropped black and gray hair before ascending the steps and rasping on the oak door separating him from his task.

"Come in," came the clipped tones from the woman beyond the barrier. With only the slightest second of hesitation, the man reached up and turned the knob and stepped more confidently than he felt into the Headmistress' domain. "Hello Professor Saramago. I was not expecting you. Is there something that I can assist you with this evening?" Minerva McGonagall queried to the transfiguration professor.

Dante took in a deep breath before beginning the dialogue that he had rehearsed in his head since speaking with his wife Margot the previous evening. "Actually, Headmistress, I was hoping that I could have a moment of your time to discuss my tenure here at Hogwarts."

Minerva arched a brow at this statement and drew her lips into a tight, thin line. Discussing tenure with professors almost always meant discussing compensation and the time for that had already come and passed for this academic year. The budget had been finalized and presented to the board of governors over two months ago; surely Professor Saramago would know this. Without saying a word, the Headmistress tilted her head slightly indicating that the man should c0ntinue and explain what he would like to discuss.

Dante was known as a shy and quiet man, but upon seeing the reaction on the woman's face, he immediately went on the defensive. "I did not come here to talk about compensation, if that is what you have assumed. I realize we are only one week from the start of term, but I have made a very difficult decision and I have come to tender my resignation effective immediately."

At the conclusion of his sentence, Dante straightened his spine to make himself appear slightly taller and puffed out his chest in an effort to show that he meant what he had said and that he would not be changing his mind. Minerva McGonagall, for her part, had been rendered speechless. Her mind was reeling with the implications of this staff development and it took all of her years of practice to maintain any semblance of her normally calm and collected exterior.

After taking a moment to ensure that her voice would be steady she responded, "I don't presume to know your reasons for wishing to leave, Dante, but surely we can discuss this. As you have said it is one week to term. I cannot possibly find a replacement professor in that timeframe. Surely you could remain for the first half of the term, at least!" Her voice rose towards the end as she again began to feel overwhelmed at the idea of attempting to find a new professor in such a short timeframe, particularly a professor for the transfiguration post.

Dante took another deep breath as he let his eyes fall over the room while he gathered his thoughts. As he glanced past the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses he saw the looks of shock and horror on their faces and it only served to increase the guilt that he was feeling for leaving his school, his colleagues, and his students so suddenly. Lost in the feeling, he thought back to the previous evening to gather strength from his wife's words.

"_Dante, darling! I'm so glad that you are home!" his wife Margot exclaimed from the kitchen as she was pulling a strawberry-rhubarb pie from the oven. She placed the pie down on the flat surface of the wooden dining table and walked over in her neatly pressed apron to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him lightly on the cheek._

_Dante grinned lopsidedly at his loving wife and responded, "I am glad to be home, my love. How are you feeling this evening?" Margot had been sick for the past several months and while she had been regularly visiting St. Mungo's for testing and treatment, no progress had been made on identifying or curing her ailment._

_His wife's face suddenly dropped and a look that mixed panic, apprehension, and a deep sadness crossed her face. "Dante, I think you should sit down," she whispered as she pulled out a chair at the table before sitting in the opposite one. "I went to St. Mungo's this afternoon and met with Gabrielle Delacour. They have finally been able to determine a diagnosis."_

_She let her thin fingers smooth nonexistent wrinkles from her apron and flicked her silvery blonde hair over her shoulder before raising her pale blue eyes up to meet the hazel orbs already locked on her. "It appears that the illness is a long lasting effect from several of my injuries during the last war. They have been causing my body to deteriorate slowly over time and due to the amount of time that they have remained untreated, the deterioration can be slowed but it cannot be stopped."_

_Dante's hazel eyes widened in fear as his wife's words fell over his ears. "How? Why?" he questioned before taking in the look that had crossed her face. Realization suddenly dawned on him as he took in her demeanor before he uttered the one question that he didn't want to have to ask, "How long, darling?"_

"Minerva, I understand your surprise and I assure you that if the situation were any different, I would do anything that I could to remain in my post until a replacement could be found, but that just isn't an option for me now." He crossed his arms over his chest and let his face fall before continuing, "She was given a diagnosis for her recent illness yesterday; she has only another year to live."

The pain of voicing those words aloud cut through his heart and the Italian man lowered his head to hide the tears glistening in his eyes. "I cannot stay. I have promised her to travel the world for as long as we can and we are leaving this evening. I hope that you can understand."

As shocked as Minerva had been upon hearing of his resignation, she was even more startled by the news of his wife's diagnosis. She knew that Margot had been sick as she had been covering his duties as Head of Gryffindor House on the weekends for several months so that he could spend time with her and accompany her to St. Mungo's, but she had no idea of the seriousness of her condition.

The Headmistress was quickly gone and Minerva the woman rose from her chair to place a thin and bony hand on the Professor's shoulder. "Dante, of course I understand. I am so sorry, please know that if there is anything that I can do to help, all you need do is ask."

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Three stories below ground in a stark white room in Orleans, France a tall and lanky, pale girl with shoulder length, wavy brown hair, a small dusting of freckles, and bright green eyes sat on a stool at a lab desk with her head propped up on her fist. The fingers of her other hand drummed impatiently on the desk as she waited for the woman at the front of the room to finish writing on the large dry erase board that took up the entirety of the wall.

When she had completed writing out the equation, the woman spun around quickly on her toes and addressed the twelve year old, "Now Aislinn, can you tell me what the values W, C, V, and A represent in relation to T, the intended transformation?" When she did not receive a response for several seconds the woman pursed her lips into a scowl and arched her brow at the seemingly defiant girl, hoping to prompt her for an answer.

Aislinn was quite bored with her lesson and was tired of being drilled on transfiguration theories for the day. Using all of her effort not to roll her eyes, she droned out in a monotone voice, "W represents the wand power of the witch or wizard attempting the transfiguration, C represents said witch or wizard's concentration, V represents the viciousness of the base object being used for the transfiguration, and A represents the bodyweight of said starting object."

"Wonderful, Aislinn! Now, can you tell me what the Z variable in this equation represents?" the woman continued, hoping to spark a debate with her young student over recently contended transfiguration theories.

At this question, the girl did finally allow her eyes to roll before responding, "Mom, we both know that there has been no hypothesis for what the Z variable represents that has been conclusively proven. I realize that you have been attempting to change this with your research, but you still have not presented enough evidence to conclusively state that Z represents intermolecular potential energy."

Though she was not a fan of the expression on her daughter's face, Hermione couldn't help but to flash a cheshire cat grin at the girl for her answer. Helene Deivrot had begun training Aislinn in transfiguration principles when she was only three years old, and her mother had continued that training once Helene had retired from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. The young girl was incredibly gifted in the subject and had knowledge of both practical and theoretical transfiguration that well surpassed even that of some transfiguration apprentices.

Hermione's smile broadened as she recalled the way her daughter would challenge her theories or pose an impossible number of questions and conduct her own research when she didn't at first understand a concept that was presented to her on the subject. The girl had a quick wit and a fiery temper that made her an excellent partner for her mother for academic debate.

Aislinn slid off the metal barstool and slammed her copy of Advanced Transfiguration Theory shut in an attempt to gain her mother's attention. While she enjoyed the subject immensely, she didn't understand why her mother forced her to take private lessons in the research lab over the summer when all she wanted to do was play outside for a few hours. "Okay Mom, you said that we could go explore the Landes Forest at noon. It is two already; can we leave?"

"I'm sorry, sweetie. Let me just inform Amber that we are headed out for the day and I will apparate us over. Meet me at the gate to the lab in about five minutes, okay?" Without waiting for a response, Hermione quickly trotted out of what they called the brainstorm room to head over to her assistant's office. When she reached the gray metal door she let her knuckles rasp three times on the cold surface before walking in.

"Hey Amber! Aislinn and I are going to go out to Landes for the rest of the afternoon. I will be back early tomorrow morning and we can get to work on the new series of molecular energy tests for the wood to metal transfigurations."

Amber McKinnon had apprenticed under Hermione while she was teaching at Beauxbatons and had joined her as a research assistant in her lab for independent study when she had left the school two years prior. Over the past two years they had used a combination of magical theory and testing along with muggle molecular science to work on proving Hermione's theory regarding the nature of the Z variable in the transfiguration balancing equation. Progress was steady, but they were still several months out from being able to present their findings in a paper for Transfiguration Today.

Amber l0oked up from her lab station and nodded at Hermione before continuing to test the metals for molecular energy with a spell that she and the other woman had developed. "I'll see you bright and early in the morning then! Have fun with Red!"

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In southwestern France in the middle of the Landes Forest, two small foxes sat on the soft bark of a fallen tree looking up at the pale pink, orange, and blue hues of the sky during sunset. On the left was a snow fox with a pure ivory coat, grey tipped ears, and deep brown eyes. The snow fox had her ears forward listening to the sounds of the forest as her tail swished and she leaned a shoulder on the animal to her right.

Next to the snow fox was a red fox with a vivid red-orange coat and white underbelly with black tipped paws. Aside from her bright green eyes, she was easily distinguished from a normal red fox because of the deep crimson color of the last half of her tail. She nuzzled her long nose into the fox to her left before letting out a yip and sprinting off further into the forest.

The snow fox let out a low growl before sprinting off herself to follow the younger fox through the thicket of trees. Once she spotted the younger animal, she leapt forward and tackled the unsuspecting creature to the ground. She gave the animal pinned below her a slight nip on the ear before backing a few feet away and from the small snow fox grew the human form of Hermione Granger.

Hermione looked down at the red fox and ran thin fingers through the fur behind her ears, scratching lightly as she went. "Come on Red, it's almost time for dinner. We have to be getting home," she stated in her best effort at a stern motherly voice. "You know I love exploring just as much as you do, but we have to eat sometime," she added with a bit more mirth in her voice.

The little red fox let out a small huff before shaking the dirt from her fur and transforming into the small form of Aislinn Granger. The green eyed girl chuckled and replied, "I am pretty hungry, Mom. Oh, and tell Amber to stop calling me Red! I can't believe she's rubbing off on you, too!" Hermione smirked as she recalled when her research assistant had given her daughter the nickname.

_Aislinn was barely eleven and had been working with Hermione on the theories of animagus transformation for over two years when she had requested that her mother allow her to attempt the spell. Hermione had been quite reluctant at first, but with a bit of coaxing from Amber had agreed to let the girl have three attempts. If she was unsuccessful, she would have to study the theory for another six months before her next chance._

_With a look of concentration that could only be described as pure Hermione, Aislinn had raised her 10 __¼__inch, acacia wood, dragon heartstring wand. She stroked a thin finger down the base of as she waved the wand through the air and clearly stated the incantation. She stood in place expectantly for several seconds before groaning in frustration when she realized that the spell had not been completed._

_Hermione, sensing an upcoming outburst of her daughter's legendary temper, encouraged her, "Even your father and I didn't get it on our first tries. No witch or wizard does. Take a deep breath, relax your mind, picture your animal, and try again."_

_After inhaling deeply to expel her frustration, Aislinn attempted the animagus transformation again and for a second time the spell did not complete. Without waiting for further instruction from her mother, she closed her eyes and attempted to clear her mind for her final attempt. She pictured her mother's snow fox and the striped tabby cat that she had been told was her father's animagus. With her thoughts on her parents, she waved her wand for a third time and was surprised to feel a tingling sensation explode across her skin._

_Upon hearing her mother's excited gasp her eyes popped open and she immediately knew she had done it. "Oh my! You are such a gorgeous little fox, Aislinn! Vulpes vulpes, a red fox! Oh honey, I am so proud of you!" Hermione bent down and scooped her daughter up into her arms while she looked over her new form._

_Amber was slowly regaining the ability to speak as the shock of witnessing an eleven year old girl successfully transform into an animagus dissipated. "Wow, look at your tail! It's crimson red! You know what, I like it. Red. That's you Aislinn, Red!" The little fox let out an indignant huff at the nickname before unleashing a low rumble from her chest._

_Hermione chuckled at her daughter's obvious displeasure with the new nickname and quipped, "You know, I do believe that fits her perfectly. Finally, a name to match her temper."_

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Sebastian Travers sat patiently in a high backed red plush chair facing the fireplace while he surveyed the room he had been left in to wait. When he had arrived at the French mansion he was quickly ushered through several hallways to what seemed to be the back of the house and then led into a small study.

All of the furniture in the room including a large partner's desk, a small sofa, two armchairs, and a small coffee table appeared to have been crafted from Bombay blackwood. The wood in combination with the crimson red upholstery and the dark tapestries draped across the un-shelved walls gave the room a very ominous air. To Travers, it felt like home.

Beginning to grow impatient, the gangly man stood and drifted closer to the fire, slowly running his crooked fingers over the black mantle. "I see that you've made yourself at home, Travers. Can I offer you a drink?" a low and raspy voice asked from the doorway behind him.

Turning around slowly, the aged man took in the sight before him. A tall figure stood cast in shadows and covered head to toe in a hooded red robe that shielded her face. The only flesh visible was a well toned olive calf peeking out from a long slit in the robe ending in a black heeled boot. The woman's long and elegant fingers retreated from her pockets and pulled the hood back displaying an angular face, long flowing black hair that fell into ringlets, and stormy gray eyes speckled with crimson red flecks.

A sinister smirk adorned the woman's breathtaking face as she prodded, "Come now, Travers. It is polite to respond to your betters when they ask you a question. I promise you will prefer me when I am being nice and hospitable." She glided towards him leaning against the armchair he had vacated while she awaited his response.

The man with shaggy gray hair swallowed with difficulty before his pale blue eyes lifted themselves from her crimson lips and he finally found his voice, "You must be Miss Lizot. I was told that you were looking for someone to lead an expedition in an attempt to recover some ancient texts in Wales."

The woman's pink tongue darted across her teeth as she sized up the man before her. Once she was satisfied with her precursory judgment, she moved closer and responded with a deeper and more husky voice against the shell of his ear, "Come, now. We will be working so closely together. You must call me Amelia." When he shuddered at the feeling of her breath against his lobe she knew she had him and backed away quickly taking a seat at her desk and waiting for the man to speak again.

"As you wish, Amelia. Your associates would not give me any additional information on the expedition. I assume that is the purpose of this meeting, is it not?" He had been approached by an unidentifiable man in Knockturn Alley late one evening the previous week and after a brief explanation that lacked any significant detail was told to be at the Lizot mansion in Toulouse, France at eight on Friday evening or face the wrath of Miss Lizot herself.

Amelia reached into her desk drawer and withdrew a thick stack of papers before sliding them across the desk and indicating for the man to sit. She also placed a small letter opener that she had pulled from another drawer on top of the stack. "I'm sure that you will understand, Sebastian, that we require absolute assurance of discretion before you can be provided with any additional information. This blood contract is binding and upon being broken holds the penalty of death."

Travers visibly cringed at the implications of the contract, but he knew that Amelia Lizot was not one to be messed with. A descendant of Lisette de Lapin, her family had been a prominent force for the dark in France since the mid 1400's. If you defied a Lizot while in France, you didn't make it out of the country alive. He had heard that the person originally offered this expedition was missing, but he knew that the man was most certainly dead and that his body would never be recovered.

With no hesitation, Travers lifted the jeweled letter opener and struck it across his index finger, holding the wound over the contract until three drops of blood had dripped near the signature line. Once the blood had been absorbed into the parchment, his name appeared on the line in bright red ink and the contract began to glow before bursting into flames and disintegrating.

Amelia did not wait for him to speak. As soon as the contract had been solidified, she stood from her desk and began to exit the room. When she had reached the threshold she turned and addressed him one final time, "You will be leading an expedition to Glamorgan, Wales. More specifically, your mission is to recover six ancient texts from a hidden dungeon below the abandoned Coity Castle."

Here, she briefly paused, wanting to ensure that he had recognized the location before continuing, "You will update me on your progress every day and all artifacts found will be handed over directly to me. In addition, you will be personally visiting the church of St. Mary the Virgin near the castle to search it for any additional hidden passages or rooms that may hold artifacts useful to our cause. You will know if you find something worth recovering."

With that, she turned and was about to leave him when he asked, "How do you know these six texts will be in Coity Castle?" His confusion regarding the location was apparent on his scrunched face and his pale eyes were wide with wonder. If these were the texts he believed them to be, they had been missing for centuries and no one had any information on their last location.

He could hear a high pitched chuckle escape her throat before she answered him without turning around, "Sebastian, we finally have the prophecy."

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Back in England in the office of the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt was just beginning his meeting with both the Head of the Department of Mysteries and the Head of the Auror Department. Arthur Weasley and Harry Potter were sitting on the opposite side of his desk waiting for him to begin the conversation that none of them wanted to have. When the silence extended for just a moment too long, the dark skinned wizard began.

"You both know why we are here. Someone accessed a prophecy a week ago without authorization. I have given you both a week and still we have nothing. This is unacceptable." Kingsley's voice sounded more like a low growl as it contained all of his frustration stemming from the recent break in and the lack of progress in finding any potential suspects for the crime.

Arthur Weasley was the first to respond as he ran a shaky hand through his balding red hair. "We've been trying, Kingsley. Whoever did this was incredibly skilled. Not only did they access the prophecy without being the person mentioned, they were able to enter and leave the Department of Mysteries without triggering any of our alarms or leaving so much as a trace." His face contorted into a frown with the thought and the stress lines across his forehead creased to indicate his exasperation.

"He's right, sir," Harry added with a breathy sigh. I have had two aurors questioning almost everyone in Knockturn Alley for a week now and we haven't heard so much as a whisper about the prophecy or who would even be interested in it. Ron and Teddy have been working twenty hour days and we still can't get a hit."

Harry cracked his knuckles before dropping his head into his hands. Teddy Lupin and Ron Weasley were his two best aurors and if they couldn't get the information, he knew no one would be able to. What he couldn't understand was why someone would be interested in the prophecy now. It had been given thirteen years prior and had been heavily guarded for years with no evidence of interest in what it foretold.

While Arthur Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt continued to discuss increasing the security wards on the Department of Mysteries and how they could prevent similar breaks in the future, Harry let his mind wander back to the night he personally had witnessed the prophecy given by none other than Luna Lovegood.

"_Oh, hello Harry! I had a feeling that you would be late so I went ahead and ordered you a fire whisky. Something tells me you were in the mood for one this evening," Luna offered dreamily as Harry pulled out a chair at the table in the Three Broomsticks. Luna had become a very close friend to Harry after the war and they met every other Saturday for drinks and light conversation._

_On most Saturday evenings, they were accompanied by Ginny and Neville but both had other plans and Harry and Luna had agreed to keep the meeting even in their absence. "How are you doing Luna, and how's Neville? I haven't heard from him since he took his apprenticeship," Harry replied._

_Luna looked lost for a moment before swatting her hand in front of her face and responding, "Sorry Harry, it seems the nargles are quite ambitious this evening! I am doing well, and Neville is loving his apprenticeship with Professor Sprout. He has always been quite gifted in herbology, you know! What about you, how have you and Ginny been?"_

_Harry was always willing to take up an opportunity to talk to someone about his wife's quidditch career, but before he could respond to Luna, he noticed that the dreamy look that was ever-present on the blonde's face had fallen and that she held a startlingly solemn expression._

"_Luna, are you alright? Is something wrong?" he questioned, hoping that she had just been distracted by nargles again and that nothing had happened to cause the horrifying look on the young woman's face. As he waited for a response, he saw her silvery gray eyes widen and darken before a shrill shrieking noise filled the air._

_Luna's eyes remained wide and fixed on the ceiling as a deep and foreign voice spilled forth from her throat, "The time has come for the ultimate weapon to be created. The six texts that provide the method can be found beneath the castle near the church where first blood was drawn. The center will be found in the heart of the Red. Birthed from the two most powerful, only the Red will suffice for the weapon's completion. Its owner will determine the fate of the world."_

_As suddenly as it had begun, the ringing dissipated, taking with it the look that had previously adorned Luna's face. Her eyes instantly became less dilated and her dreamy expression returned, followed by her normal sing-song voice stating, "Oh, I'm sorry Harry! I think I got caught up with the nargles again. What were you saying about Ginny?"_

Snapping out of his recollection, Harry heard Kingsley clear his throat followed by a loud and brash declaration, "I don't care what you two have to do, I need to know who accessed that prophecy, and I need to know yesterday!" The Minister slammed his hands down on his desk to emphasize his demands before abruptly standing and storming out of his office in a flurry of azure robes.

Harry turned to face the Weasley patriarch as his soft green eyes shone with trepidation. "Arthur, you know I have my two best on the case. I will send them to question our list of known dark wizards throughout Britain and add two more men undercover in Knockturn Alley, but there is not much else I can do."

Arthur Weasley could see the frustration present on Harry's face from having been unable to produce results for the Minister thus far. In the many years that the boy had worked as an auror, he had never failed to collect the information needed to close a case or apprehend a suspect of a crime. After taking a deep breath, he attempted to console the boy, "I know, Harry. Once I get the new warding done in the DoM I will assign two of my men to contact some of our overseas connections and see if we can get a lead from that direction. Don't worry son, we will get this straightened out."

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At ten o'clock on Friday evening, Filius Flitwick entered the Headmistress' office to discuss Professor Saramago's resignation and who would be filling the post of transfiguration professor along with taking over the duties of Head of Gryffindor House. The Headmistress had sent him a note earlier that afternoon informing him of Dante's resignation and requesting his assistance with gathering files on all transfiguration masters to complete their apprenticeships within the last ten years.

Files in hand, Filius walked over to the plush purple sofa by the fire and took a seat, patiently waiting for the Headmistress to appear. Moments later, Minerva entered the office from her private rooms to see that her guest had already arrived. "Good evening, Filius! I hope getting those files together didn't prove to be too much trouble."

Filius chuckled softly, "Minerva, I'm afraid gathering the files was the easy task. Selecting a replacement for Dante will be the difficult portion of the evening. I know you haven't looked over the files yet, but do you have anyone in mind?" The diminutive man scooted forward to the edge of his seat cushion anxiously awaiting the elder witches response.

Minerva arched her brow in response to his question. She had certainly considered a candidate, but she was more than positive that her deputy would disapprove of her suggestion. Still, she pressed on, "I have given it careful consideration, Filius, and I believe it may be best if I take over teaching transfiguration and managing Gryffindor for the interim. This will give us a much more comfortable timeline for selecting a new, qualified professor so that we are not forced into doling out the position to someone that is not optimal for educating the students."

When she had finished with her proposition, Minerva straightened her back and furrowed her brow to indicate that she was quite serious about refusing to give the position to a professor who was not fully qualified. In the many years since she had become Headmistress, the transfiguration post had been filled by only two professors, both of whom had been perfect candidates that it had taken Minerva months of multiple interviews to select.

To say that Filius was displeased with the Headmistress' suggestion would have been an understatement. The short statured man with white hair shot her his best glare with his light blue eyes as he retorted, "Surely you jest, Minerva! The Headmistress' responsibilities alone are astronomical! You cannot expect me to stand by while you overtax yourself working three of the most difficult positions in this school simultaneously!"

If any other professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had spoken to Minerva in such a tone she would have released them from their contract on the spot, but Filius was not just another professor, he was her friend. In all of the years that they had known each other, he had been the only one able to make her see reason, and somewhere deep down she knew that he was right.

A soft but audible sigh escaped the woman's lips and she leaned back slightly in her chair before continuing, "Well then, Filius, we better get to work sorting through these files." She picked up half of the files on the desk and began reading through them as her deputy did the same with the remainder of the stack, both of them pausing to discuss a potential candidate when they came across a transfiguration master that was particularly well qualified.

"What do you think of Kevin Bletchley?" Minerva pondered aloud after reading through a handful of the profiles. "It says here that he completed his apprenticeship under Igor Von Traussen at the Durmstrang Institute," she added after skimming the file in her hands again.

Filius pondered the name for a moment, "I remember him. He was a Slytherin student, and he was very advanced in transfiguration, charms, and potions if I recall correctly. I know Von Traussen is well respected in the transfiguration community. Has Bletchley done any teaching or independent research in the field?"

"I know he hasn't taught, but I remember something being published under his name in Transfiguration Today a while back. Let me see if I still have the article." The woman stood from her chair and walked over to the shelf that was reserved for copies of the famous periodical. "Ah, here it is. It looks like his paper was on animagus traits and the ability to choose your own animagus form if you spend time cohabiting with the creature in question. This article is absolutely ludicrous! No, no, definitely not!"

Filius chuckled to himself at the older woman's outburst over the content of the paper before continuing to read the file in his hands. "Ah, here we are. What about Jules McLaggen? It says here that she completed her apprenticeship under Amanda Markert at the Salem Witches' Institute."

"She won't work, Filius," Minerva stated succinctly. "She is already teaching for the Salem Witches' Institute in America. She would be a superb candidate, but I can't steal a teacher out from under Franchescka's nose, not this close to the start of term."

The arduous task of finding a suitable new candidate that was available to take the position was clearly beginning to get to Minerva. The next four files in a row she practically threw across the room after reading the candidates' credentials. After skimming the fifth file, she paused. "Oh, Filius, I've got it! Amber McKinnon would be perfect! She went to school at Hogwarts, she was sorted into Gryffindor, she completed her apprenticeship under Hermione Granger, and she isn't already in a teaching position at another institute!"

The Headmistress was sure she had found the perfect person to take over both the teaching post and the Head of House position. Her expression softened and the rigidity of her spine and tautness of her muscles visibly decreased. Unfortunately for Filius, he knew Amber would never accept the position. Why did he have to be the one to burst Minerva McGonagall's bubble?

"Minerva, I know you don't want to hear this, but Amber McKinnon won't accept the position if you offer it to her," he stated with a hint of dejection in his voice. Minerva scoffed at him, but he raised his hand to prevent her interruption before continuing, "She has never been interested in teaching. As soon as she completed her mastery she took an independent research position. She is Hermione Granger's main research assistant and with the work that they are doing there, I can guarantee you that she wouldn't leave her current job."

The pallor of Minerva's face whitened even further as she took in her deputy's words. "How can you possibly know all of that Filius? Hermione's research hasn't been published. No one even knows where her lab is for Merlin's sake!"

The charms professor could tell that the older woman's ire was beginning to present itself in full force. He cleared his throat to keep his composure before responding, "Amber is the daughter of an old family friend, Minerva. Her father loves talking about her work. I know you don't want to hear it, but I am telling you the truth. She isn't an option."

Minerva sunk down into her chair with a look of defeat as she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. She sat remarkably still for several minutes, even for the venerable Headmistress, before snapping upright in realization. "Filius, do you realize that we have overlooked the best candidate for the job; one with more qualifications than all of the other candidates combined?"

The man sitting opposite her looked at her with a bewildered expression before she completed her explanation, "She completed her mastery eight years ago, she taught transfiguration at the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic for six years, and her research in the field so far has been nothing short of groundbreaking!" Suddenly, Filius understood exactly who the woman before him was considering for the position.

"Yes, Minerva, she is very well qualified, but do you really believe that she will accept the position?" he queried while looking into the older woman's eyes.

The Headmistress considered his question for several minutes before her green eyes began to sparkle and she responded in a voice barely above a whisper, "I have no idea, but I have to find out."

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A/N: Keep the questions coming! I definitely don't mind answering (when I can without spoilers) and clearing up anything that may have been a bit confusing in my writing. Like I said before, I am on holiday at the moment, but I am going to try to update a few more times before I return home.


	4. Chapter 4

August 26th, 2017 (Saturday) -

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Most mornings Hermione Granger woke before the sun had begun to slowly rise over the horizon. This Saturday morning, however, the young witch was getting some much needed rest after putting in increasingly long hours at her research lab in an effort to prove her theories regarding the nature of the Z element of the transfiguration equation.

When a crash followed by a loud and incessant tapping noise jolted Hermione out of her peaceful sleep, the woman simply rolled over and covered her head with her fluffy white pillow to drown out the sounds that seemed so intent on ruining her morning.

Ten minutes later, when the annoyingly persistent tapping had failed to cease, the woman had had enough. Sighing in defeat, an exhausted Hermione flopped ungracefully out of her four poster bed and dragged herself to the large bay window at the opposite end of the room.

"Get in here and then leave as quickly as possible, if you know what's good for you. Merlin only knows who on earth would insist that a letter be delivered at this hour on a Saturday!"

Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, Hermione realized it was just shy of four in the morning. Rolling her eyes in frustration, she quickly removed the parchment from the large white owl's leg and shooed it away without a treat. _That'll teach him to deliver at such ridiculous hours!_

Slightly chilled after opening the window, the young woman grabbed the thick black robe from her nightstand and tied it around her waist before sinking down into the plush blue chair in front of the desk in her bedroom. Holding the parchment in her right hand and resting her weary head on her left, Hermione began to inspect the delivery.

The letter was clearly addressed to a Miss Hermione Granger, but very few people had this address. Flipping it over, a sharp gasp echoed through the room as the woman in question recognized the familiar Hogwarts seal along with a neatly stamped MM in green wax along the seam.

Momentarily, Hermione pondered tossing the letter into the bin at the edge of the desk. After a few moments of consideration, however, the woman resigned herself to at least reading the contents before charming the letter to explode in flames. Slowly she slit the seal with a small letter opener that she had removed from her drawer and began to read.

_Miss Hermione Granger,_

_I hope this letter finds you well._

_Yesterday morning our current transfiguration professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Dante Saramago, tendered his immediate resignation. As it is now less that one week until the start of the fall term, this places both me and the school in a decidedly precarious position._

_I realize that you have been out of teaching for several years now and have started your own research laboratory and can respect that you are likely quite busy. However, I would like to ask if you may be willing to consider accepting the open Transfiguration post along with the position as the Head of Gryffindor House. I understand if this is not possible due to your current situations._

_If you are willing to consider accepting these positions, the enclosed port key will bring you directly to my office at 7pm this evening. Please keep in mind that we can discuss any reservations that you may have at that time, along with the possibilities of you continuing your research while at the school._

_Thank you for your consideration._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

By the time she had reread the Headmistress' letter twice, Hermione's hands were shaking and tears were streaming from large brown eyes over pale cheeks. Dropping the letter to the floor without noticing, the distraught woman curled up into a ball in the oversized chair and sobbed until she fell into a troubled sleep.

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The morning sky was alight with various hues of pinks, oranges, and yellows as the sun rose over the lush Welsh hills. In the town of Glamorgan, a group of artifact hunters and curse breakers stood amidst the ruins in what had once been the courtyard of Coity Castle. As the sunlight flickered eerily through the holes in stone walls, the group shifted and fidgeted with excitement, waiting for further instruction.

A gangly wizard strode up to the group from an adjoining corridor while running thin and bony hands through his shaggy grey hair. His dull, pale blue eyes fixated on the group, clearly scrutinizing the team that he had been assigned for the excavation. Immediately the older man recognized several of the more prominent members, including Bill and Fleur Weasley. They may have been on the opposite side of the war, but they were known as the best curse breakers in the world. If the Goblins trusted them, there wouldn't be anyone better.

As his slow gait brought him to the forefront of the group, Sebastian Travers held his wand to his throat and quickly cast the spell to amply his voice to be heard by the crowd, "As you have all been informed, we are here to extract possible magical artifacts and texts from the dungeons and tombs of this castle. We have seven days to complete this excavation. Information outside of this will only be provided on a need to know basis. Now, get to work!"

Knowing that the team had been given detailed instructions on their tasks prior to his arrival, Travers simply took a seat several meters from the back passage entrance that they believed would lead to the dungeon. He was here to supervise the excavation and deal with any issues as they may arise, but that didn't mean he had to baby-sit.

By mid morning, the excavation team had managed to clear all of the debris leading to the dungeon entrance. Thirty minutes ago, Travers had sent the team of four curse breakers down to the area to begin working to dispel the magical wards now barring their entry. Bill and Fleur Weasley and Gavon and Davis O'Malley were four of the best, and Travers was confident that he would soon be able to report back to Amelia Lizot that the excavation had been a success and had been completed well under the one week timeframe that he had been given.

Down below the ruins at the entrance to the dungeons, Fleur had her wand pointed at one corner of the door providing a steady steam of lavender magic as she rapidly fired off a string of French designed to weaken the wards and draw the magic holding them together slowly apart so that Bill could deactivate them. Bill aimed his wand and informed Fleur that he was about to begin before a steam of dark blue magic intertwined with hers.

Glancing over his should at Gavon and Davis, Bill explained, "Fleur and I are breaking the wards apart piece by piece. It is a bit of a lengthy process, but it is much better than running in blind to test the wards before deactivating them. With these being blood wards that have been around for centuries, there is no telling what type of magic we may be up against. You two stay back until we have finished this part and then we can move on to detection. Got it?"

Without waiting for a response, Bill turned back to his wife and continued uttering incantations to slowly remove each tiny layer of the immensely complex warding. Behind him, Gavon and Davis were busy whispering to themselves. "Bloody right bastard this fellow is. Thinks he runs this show. We'll show him, won't we Davis?"

Davis winked at his brother and replied with mischief, "Right you are, mate! Let's show him how the real men deal with blood wards!" Each brother glanced at the other before raising their wands and two jets of blinding white light shot past Bill and Fleur and into the doorway to the dungeon.

Seeing the flash of magic streak past, Bill turned to locate the origin before shouting, "You bloody idiots are about to get us all killed!" With more speed than he believed he had, Bill quickly conjured the strongest shielding charm that he could manage surrounding his wife. As he was casting a second shield charm to cover himself, the entire corridor leading to the entrance exploded with a boom of thunder and burst into flames.

By the time Travers had heard the explosion, the man knew without a doubt that he would be punished. Failure was not something Amelia Lizot took lightly, and this would most certainly be seen as a failure. By the time the rest of the excavation team was able to clear the corridor again, Davis was dead, Gavon was mortally wounded, and Bill was rushed to St. Mungo's with burns covering more than 40% of his body. The only curse breaker to make it out unharmed was the young French woman, who had immediately apparated to the hospital to be with her husband.

Dull blue eyes were filled with a combination of fear and rage as Travers shouted obscenities at the rest of the team and his assistant. Understanding that he had precious few seconds to figure something out and get the project back on track, he gave the assistant his orders, "I don't care how you do it, but you will get me two more curse breakers and they will be here by Monday morning. If you fail, or if they are as incompetent as the O'Malley's, you will pay for your mistake with your life. Do I make myself clear?"

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When Hermione Granger had woken after several hours of fitful sleep, she had immediately showered and dressed before fire calling her friend and research assistant Amber McKinnon. Amber had agreed to watch over Aislinn for Hermione while the woman "took care of some errands" for the afternoon.

After dropping Aislinn off at the lab, despite her daughter's protests, the young woman had apparated straight to London to speak to one of the few people that she knew would understand. Straightening her silk blouse, Hermione pushed the buzzer on the outside of the flat to let the occupant know that a visitor had arrived.

In seconds, the door to the flat opened widely to reveal a woman with flowing silver blonde hair and bright blue eyes. "'Ermione! It is so nice to see you! What are you doing 'ere in England? Oh, never mind that now… come in, come in!"

Gabrielle Delacour quickly ushered her friend into her small London flat. After meeting again at Beauxbatons, the two had formed a strong friendship that had only strengthened over the years. Gabrielle, now the Deputy Administer at St. Mungo's, did not get to visit with Hermione as often as she would have liked, but she always made an effort to see the woman and her favorite "niece" as frequently as possible.

Hermione had only visited Gabrielle's flat once previously, and that had been a brief visit while helping her to unpack and decorate when she had initially moved in. Now, after several years, the flat looked completely different. While traveling to the sitting room, the young woman took in the modern decoration scheme and the brightly colored walls with glee.

Gabrielle took a seat on the large white couch near the fireplace and motioned for her friend to take the seat next to her. When Hermione was off of her feet, Gabrielle continued. "Alright, 'Ermione! Now that we are settled, spill. Why 'ave you come all the way to London?"

The younger woman watched as her friend took in a deep breath of air while fidgeting nervously with her hands. Whatever had brought Hermione to London, she could tell it was something that was bothering the woman. Placing her right hand gently over Hermione's she added, "Whatever it is, love, you know you can talk to me."

Hermione reached into her pocket and removed the letter that she had received earlier that morning before raising her watery brown eyes to meet her friend's light blue gaze. "I received this letter this morning. I… Gabby, I have no idea what to do." With that said, the woman handed the parchment to her friend and waited anxiously for her to finish reading.

As Gabrielle read, it took a tremendous effort to contain her shock. With concern evident in her eyes she again looked to Hermione and voiced her thoughts, "'Ermione, there is no reason that you 'ave to go to this meeting. Your friends would love to 'ave you back 'ome, but you cannot let that force your decision. Only you can decide if this is right for you, and no matter what decision you make, you will 'ave my full support."

Hermione let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding before responding, "Thank you Gabby, you don't know how much that means to me. At first, I didn't want anything to do with it. I almost burned the letter." She gave a nervous chuckle before continuing, "Now though, I think… I think I might want to go. It isn't the best situation for me, but I don't want Aislinn to have to keep hiding. She hasn't even been able to tell her friends her real name!"

Self-hatred began to lace her voice as it rose in volume, "It is my fault her life has been this way. I ran from my problems, but it isn't fair to her anymore. I need to at least consider this. I need to consider it for her."

Gabrielle saw the fierce determination radiating from her friend's eyes and nodded, "I understand, 'Ermione. Just remember, no matter what, I will be 'ere for both you and Aislinn every step of the way."

With the most difficult part of the conversation out of the way, both friends continued to catch up. Gabrielle had made small sandwiches and a pot of lemon tea for lunch. Just as they were finishing the last of the tea, the buzzer for the flat rang out loudly through the sitting room. Startled, Gabrielle jumped up to answer the door before remembering her plans for the afternoon.

"Oh, 'Ermione! That will be George. We were supposed to go out for coffee this afternoon to discuss the latest product line 'e wants me to test. Are you okay with seeing 'im?" The woman knew that George and Hermione were still close, but also realized that he knew nothing of the truth behind Aislinn's birth or the situation with the Headmistress.

Hermione briefly considered apparating back to France before realizing that if she really was going to go through with this, she would need all the support that she could get. "Please, Gabby, let him in. I think it is time for me to tell him the truth."

Moments later, George Weasley bounded into Gabrielle's sitting room shouting, "Where is she? Where are you little miss? I can't believe you are in England and didn't tell me!" As he rounded the corner and spotted Hermione lounging on the couch with a smirk he rushed forward, scooped her up into his arms, and spun her around in circles.

Hermione laughed while playfully hitting his chest and protesting, "Put me down George Weasley, right this instant! It was an unexpected trip, I promise!"

Once he began to get dizzy, George gently replaced his best friend in her prior spot on the couch and took a seat in the oversized chair just opposite. "So, my dear, how have you been?"

"Would you like me to answer prior to this morning, or would you like to ask a less loaded question?" Hermione replied. "I'm afraid today has been quite… surprising, to say the least."

"Start from the beginning."

Hermione began in the only place that she could, the night of the holiday ball all those years ago. With great effort and sparing no detail, the young woman explained her evening with Minerva McGonagall after their tango, the run in at Florish and Blotts, the stolen memory, and Aislinn's complete lack of knowledge of her mother.

After completing her explanation, Hermione held up her hand to forestall the questions that she knew her dear friend would have. "Then, this morning, I received this," she stated, passing George the letter that requested she meet with Headmistress McGonagall that evening.

George, meanwhile, had so many thoughts rushing through his head that he could not focus on one long enough to speak. He sat perfectly still for several minutes just staring at his friend before whispering, "Why didn't ya tell me, love?" Suddenly, everything made sense to him. The unexpected move to France, all the years of carefully avoiding the subject of Hogwarts or the Headmistress, the mystery behind Aislinn's birth… all of it.

"George, I just… I couldn't. Gabby only knew because of the tests that she had to do during my pregnancy. I… I don't know what to do. There are so many questions and no answers."

Seeing his best friend's eyes begin to well with carefully held tears, George responded the only way that he could, "Whatever it takes, love, we'll get you through this. You and Aislinn, both."

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"Again, Red!" The short woman with fiery red hair and bright cerulean eyes yelled across the lab. "I need to measure the energy readout for this transfiguration two more times and then we can move on to the next set."

At Amber's instructions, Aislinn Granger waved her wand and clearly stated, "Lignea Plumbea!" Instantly, the lead block sitting inside the glass chamber in the center of the lab transformed into a much smaller block of wood.

"Great!" Amber shouted. "Now one more time just to make sure these readings are accurate. Amber removed the now wooden block and replaced it with another block of pure lead. Aislinn again flicked her wand and a wooden block formed in its place.

"Okay, it looks like these readings, combined with the last few tests for this element, are confirming your mother's hypothesis!" Amber flashed a brilliant smile at Aislinn, who immediately rolled her eyes.

"I still think she is missing something. The energy readings are confirming the hypothesis only if you leave a ten percent margin of error when balancing the equation." Aislinn had been studying the results of her mother's recent round of testing and knew that she could understand the experiments just as well as Amber could, if not better.

"Well Red, you keep helping me with these readings until we finish the last of the elements that your mom wanted done for the weekend and I will let you pick one experiment for us to do before cleaning up the lab. How does that sound?" Amber winked at the young girl knowing she would do anything if it meant working on her own transfiguration experiments.

Aislinn's face lit up and she jumped up and down, "You mean it Amber?" At Amber's nod, Aislinn threw her arms around the older woman while shouting, "Thank you! Thank you! I know just what I want to do! We can test the energy conversion ratios for single element to single element transformations versus the conversion ratios for single element to compound transfigurations!"

Amber, realizing what she had gotten herself into, let out a sigh. "Why did I think you would give me a break for once and not pick an experiment more difficult than what we were supposed to be doing for the day?" Aislinn just laughed at the woman and went back to completing the transfigurations for the next round of energy testing.

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For all intents and purposes, the witch and wizard in long, black hooded robes currently concealed by a disillusionment charm did not exist. Kylie Monkstanley and Tyberius Everly were veritable ghosts as they walked briskly through a dark, damp corridor hidden in the depths of New York City's magic sector. Unspeakables by name, Kylie and Tyberius were known only to those who needed to know of their position within the Ministry of Magic; those who did know of them knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they had never failed a mission.

Their current mission, as assigned by the Head of the Department of Mysteries, Arthur Weasley, was to locate one Orion Denaught. Orion was a short and quiet man with prominent familial ties to the most pure and darkest of houses in all of the Americas. Unlike the majority of his family, Orion preferred to remain in the muddled waters between the definitions of good and evil, carefully choosing to align himself with whichever side could benefit him most.

For this reason, Orion had frequently found himself in contact with the Ministry of Magic over the years of the previous war. His inside knowledge of lesser plots by the Death Eaters had proven quite lucrative and had afforded him the large seemingly abandoned building that loomed ominously at the end of the current street.

Feeling magical barriers wash over her as she stepped past the Denaught wards, Kylie motioned to her partner to ring the chime as she covered him, wand at the ready. Several long seconds passed before the thick black door opened to reveal a man of about sixty with cropped black hair and a deep scar across his right eye. "Hello?" The man spat out the question with a sneer. "I know you are there, I can feel the magic."

With that statement, the man turned and walked five paces into his home before turning back around and arching his brow in question. Kylie and Tyberius, who had followed Orion inside, closed the door before quickly dispelling the charms that had been hiding them from view.

The woman kept her wand trained on the short man as her partner spoke, "Hello Mr. Denaught. If you don't mind, we would like to ask you a few questions." The diminutive man sneered and his expression morphed into a scowl as he spat back, "Since it doesn't seem I have much choice in the matter, why don't you have a seat?"

Once they had dispensed with the so called pleasantries, Orion's gruff voice spoke out again, "Now that you have invaded my home, why don't you just ask what you have come to ask. I don't feel much like entertaining this afternoon."

Despite herself, Kylie let out a small chuckle at the elder man's attitude before getting straight to the meat of the mission. "Mr. Denaught, a prophecy was stolen from the Ministry of Magic a little over a week ago. The thieves left no trace, and we have every reason to believe that they were not the ones of which the prophecy foretold."

With just a hint of mirth hidden behind dull grey eyes, Orion responded, "Is that all? What has this to do with me? There are thousands of prophecies in the ministry. I am supposed to know what has happened to a single one? Surely you jest." The man waved his right hand in dismissal before settling further back into his chair and regarding the young woman with disinterest.

Tyberius was not a man who took his job lightly and instantly drew his wand on the elder man before him. "You will answer our questions. This prophecy is quite remarkable. It mentions a great weapon, ancient texts, and the fate of the world. I know that you have heard of it, Orion. Do not force my hand." The man's eyes widened in recognition at his statement and he held his hand up palm flat to indicate that he needed a moment to gather his thoughts before providing the information that he knew.

Scanning his memories, Orion recalled a meeting in a dark Parisian alleyway many years prior. "I have heard of your missing prophecy. It was mentioned to me when I was asked to join a very secretive French society many years back." At voicing this his eyes clouded over and his voice noticeably cracked.

"I denied the request that I join, and barely escaped with my life. I never met the leader, nor do I know who it was. All I can tell you is that the group that you are looking for is La Societe de Sang, or the Society of Blood." Denaught visibly shivered as the name of the society fell from his lips and whispered across the cold air of the darkened room. "Nasty group of purebloods bent on shaping the world in their image, not unlike your Voldemort. The difference is in the capability."

Kylie, sensing that the man held more knowledge than he had provided, pressed him further, "What do you mean the capability?"

A grave look settled on the man's features as he wearily continued, "The Society of Blood has been around since the early fourteen hundreds. Founded when the witch hunts began, the groups ultimate goal is to rid the world of all non-magical presence. If your missing prophecy is the one that I believe it to be, it is told to provide information necessary for forming a weapon that could do just that."

Disbelief was evident in the faces of both unspeakables as they listened to the man explain all that he had been told when he was asked to join the society. Before they could throw out any additional questions, the man volunteered one additional piece of information, "Michael Rowle, Thorfinn's son. He was present when I was invited. If you want more information, I suggest you start with him. No one outside of the society will have the information that you seek. Now, leave, before you get me killed."

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Hermione had stayed in England long enough to have coffee with George and Gabrielle before deciding to head home and speak with Aislinn about Hogwarts. The cautious woman wanted nothing more than to give her daughter the happy and carefree life that she had taken from her. To do this, she had to get Aislinn's opinion on moving back to England and going to Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons again as she had been planning all summer.

Walking into her research lab, Hermione immediately spotted Amber hunched over composition books full of data while working to input the numbers for the days experiments into the computer to compound with the previous results.

"Hey Amber," she said in greeting, "how did the experiments go? I hope that Aislinn didn't give you too much trouble today. Hermione knew her daughter was nothing if not a handful. With a quick flaring temper and a sharp wit, the girl hadn't met anyone yet that she couldn't hold her own against.

The younger woman brushed a lock of hair out of her face as she laughed before replying, "She was great Hermione, though she didn't give me a break. We did some extra energy conversion tests on single elements versus compounds. You should take a look at the data when you get a chance, it looks promising."

Hermione flashed Amber her famous cheshire cat grin and whispered conspiratorially, "I swear that girl is trying to take over my lab!" With an over the shoulder wink, Hermione sauntered off into the back room where she knew her daughter would likely be reading.

Just as she had expected, her daughter was sitting in a giant black reading chair hunched over an exceptionally thick tome. Her loose brown curls falling forward to shield the bright emerald eyes as they scanned the words on the page. Hermione stood in the doorway, content to watch her daughter in her element.

"You know Mom, it isn't polite to stare." The young girl didn't look up as she continued reading.

Hermione smiled at her daughter, "I wasn't staring, I was loving. It's different. Mothers are allowed to stare at their children." Now that she had been spotted, she walked across the room and settled herself on the armrest of the chair that Aislinn was sitting in.

"Honey, I need you to stop reading for a bit. I want to talk to you about something important. We can stay here at the lab if you want, or we can head home and you can come back tomorrow." Hermione ran her long, thin fingers through her daughters hair while waiting for an answer.

Aislinn snapped the book that she had been reading shut with a loud thud. "Can we stay here for a bit longer? I wanted to see the graphs once Amber is done inputting today's numbers."

"That's fine baby," Hermione agreed and then hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject of possibly changing schools. Finally, she settled on a direct approach. "Do you want to return to Beauxbatons, Aislinn?"

Aislinn cocked her head to the side and arched one brow as she typically did when thinking something over. After several minutes of reflection, she responded to her mother's question, "I like Beauxbatons as an institution. It has an interesting history and it is a beautiful campus. The professors are not perfect, but they all take their jobs very seriously. Well, except for that idi… woman who teaches transfiguration. I still don't understand why I have to take her class. Why?"

Deciding not to comment on her daughter's near slip about the current professor of transfiguration, partially because she agreed with the young girl's assessment, Hermione continued, "What do you think of the other wizarding schools?"

Aislinn resumed her thoughtful pose for a moment before settling on a response, "Well, the American schools are good across the board, but have no room for specialization in later years. Durmstrang has a good program, but is exclusively attended by males. The only other school I have knowledge of is Hogwarts. I know you went there, and they offer greater specialization in later years, but other than that all I know is what I have read in Hogwarts: A History."

Hermione wasn't able to hide the shocked expression that immediately formed on her face. "You've read Hogwarts: A History?"

"Yes. It is in our library at home, you know." Her daughter looked at her as if she must be crazy. The book, when she had found it hidden amongst a stack of muggle novels in the back room of the library, was nearly falling apart. It must have been read close to a thousand times.

Momentarily ignoring her daughter's response, Hermione asked in an almost whisper, "How would you feel about attending Hogwarts instead?"

At this, Aislinn's eyes widened and she began fidgeting in her chair, "Oh Mom, could I? Dante Saramago, the professor of transfiguration there, is much better than Professor Bruni. He has his third level mastery and has done independent research in the field!"

Hermione held up her hand to stop her daughter and said, "I know Dante is a wonderful professor, but he will not be returning to Hogwarts next term. The reason I ask is because I have been offered the position. I mean, I may not be quite as interesting as Dante," she paused to wink at her daughter, "but I think that I could still teach you a thing or two!"

If possible, Aislinn's eyes widened even further at her mother's confession, "You mean it Mom? You will teach me? I can go to Hogwarts? We can be close to Uncle George and Aunt Gabby?"

"I mean it, honey. If this is what you want, I mean it."

Aislinn's face took on a mischievous expression and Hermione mentally braced herself for whatever would come next. "I have one condition," the young girl added in a firm tone.

"Oh? What is your condition?"

Aislinn smirked and replied, "I will be registered as Aislinn Granger, not Aislinn Greene."

Hermione let out the breath of air that she had been holding and wrapped two long arms around her daughter. A tear trailed down her face as she whispered into her daughter's hair, "You've got a deal."

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Darkness had fallen over London earlier than usual this evening and the August night air seemed unnaturally cold. Ducking out of a pub along Knockturn Alley, Michael Rowle pulled his crimson red hood over his long blond locks and slipped into the shadows. Deep blue eyes carefully scanned his surroundings ensuring that he was alone before the young man continued on his journey.

As he rounded a corner and began to emerge from hiding, a wand pressed sharply into his back as a soft and feminine voice whispered into his ear, "Not so fast, now. We want to ask you a couple of questions." Before Michael could respond, a loud crack echoed through the alleyway and both he and his assailant had disappeared.

When they had reappeared, the young man had only see a brief glimpse of jagged cliff rocks and heard the crashing sound of large waves breaking against them before he felt an immense pressure against his skull as he was knocked unconscious. While he was sleeping, the two unspeakables had moved the man into a small cell and heavily dosed him with both a calming draught and veritaserum.

Patiently waiting for their captive to regain consciousness, Kylie and Tyberius sat in cold metal chairs just on the other side of the tall steel bars that held him. The man's eyes fluttered for several minutes before he finally awoke with a grunt, pulling at the restraints that bound his hands and ankles. Realizing that his efforts were futile, the deep blue eyes settled onto the two forms that sat just outside the line of light drifting from his cell.

Unable to see his captors, Michael decided to question them to see if he could recognize their voices instead. "Who are you and why am I here?"

The soft voice that had spoken just before he was apparated sounded first, "Relax Michael, we will be the ones asking the questions here. If you cooperate and provide us with the information that we need, you will be free to go at the end of your interrogation." The disembodied voice paused then, clearly waiting for indication that he would acquiesce to the questioning.

When no response came, the second captor's voice sounded through the darkness, "What is the Society of Blood?" _A man and a woman, _Michael thought. Then he fought frantically against his bindings as he felt the words begin to bubble up from his throat unwillingly. _Veritaserum!_

Unable to prevent the oncoming onslaught of words, Michael spoke, "The Society of Blood is a foundation of pureblood witches and wizards. It was formed in the late fourteen hundreds as a response to the muggle witch hunting. It is the goal of the society to eradicate all magical presence in our world."

When he had finished speaking, Michael hung his head in shame. He would never willingly provide information to these bastards. They were forcing him to become a traitor! Despite the calming draught, he felt rage course through his veins. He never anticipated the next question.

Again, the male voice broke through the darkness, "Who is the leader of this society?"

Michael Rowle's eyes widened to the size of saucers at the question and he began to thrash frantically against the wall where he was being held. A gurgling sound left his throat as the man made a genuine and desperate effort to swallow or bite off his tongue, anything to prevent himself from providing the answer he knew was coming.

He was not fast enough, though, as his mouth opened against his will. "Her name is…"

Kylie watched on in abject horror as the young man's head lolled to the side and blood began pouring from the mouth that had moments ago been responding to the questions. Turning to her partner and seeing her own expression mirrored back in his countenance, she whispered, "You don't think…"

Far away in a mansion in France, a small piece on a chess board burst into flames in front of a woman clad entirely in red. Letting a maniacal chuckle burst forth from her ruby lips she thought, _Blood contracts and unbreakable vows most certainly have their uses._

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Five minutes before 7pm found Hermione almost frantically pacing her bedroom while clutching the ginger newt port key to tightly to her chest. "I can't do this. I can't do this," she muttered as she repeated her journey from the door of the room to her bed and back again.

Feeling a wave of nausea course through her stomach, the woman sprinted to her en suite and promptly emptied the entire contents of her stomach into the loo. When she had finished, she walked over to her sink and quickly brushed her teeth before splashing water on her face.

_Okay, here we go. I can do this. _Hermione steeled her nerves and blanked her face, forcing an emotionless expression just as she felt the all too familiar tug on her navel. She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again she found herself in the Headmistress' office, staring into the emerald green orbs of the woman she swore she would never lay eyes on again.

"Good evening, Hermione," she stated in her Scottish lilt that whispered across the air.

"To you as well, Headmistress," Hermione replied in a monotone. "If you don't mind, I actually prefer Miss Granger." The woman knew that if she was going to make it through this meeting, through the year, she would need to avoid any familiarity with the woman standing before her.

Taken aback by the coldness in her ex-student's tone, Minerva hesitated briefly before acknowledging that the young woman had spoken. "As you wish, Miss Granger. Please, have a seat, and we can discuss the available position."

After years of watching and searching for the woman beneath the icon, Hermione was quite adept at reading Minerva McGonagall. It was because of this particular talent that she was able to see the fleeting look of hurt that graced the older woman's face for just a moment before her normally stoic expression returned.

A feeling of remorse attempted to settle in Hermione's chest, but she brushed it away. This woman had hurt her, not the other way around, and she would not allow herself to get close to her again. No matter what the cost.

"Thank you, Headmistress," Hermione stated after taking a seat on the plush purple sofa near the fireplace. "If you could give me the details of the position, then I would like to go over a few necessary requests that I have that will determine whether or not I am able to accept the position."

Minerva hesitated again. It was taking nearly everything that she had for the normally stern woman to retain the reserved look on her face. _I am not quite sure how I believed that this would go, but this is most certainly not it._

Finding her resolve, Minerva McGonagall explained the details of the available position, "As I stated in my letter, the available position is as professor of transfiguration. This position would also include the Head of House duties for Gryffindor."

"As this years budget has already been submitted to the Board of Governors, I'm afraid I can only offer you what Dante's salary would have been for the year. The total for all duties for two terms comes to 63,427 galleons."

Hermione nodded at this, "That will be more than sufficient."

The salary had been the point that had most concerned Minerva, as she was aware that Hermione's level of mastery, previous teaching experience, and countless published papers in the subject merited much more. Relieved, the Headmistress continued, "You will have one weekend a month off, at which time another Head of House will cover your students. This is rotating, and you will be expected to cover for other heads from time to time based on the schedule."

"As for your living arrangements, the vacated quarters that you can be assigned include one bedroom, a study, a sitting room, and a small library. I trust that this will meet your needs?"

Hermione winced. She had been hoping to get through the initial portion of the meeting without having to bring up her daughter, but now realized that this would not be the case. "Actually, Headmistress, that leads me to one of the conditions that I wished to discuss with you."

Hermione's voice faltered slightly and she cleared her throat to cover her nervousness. Steeling her voice, she continued, "I have a daughter."

Startled beyond the limits of her normally unyielding resolve, the Headmistress let out a small gasp. However, she quickly resumed her previous expression and motioned slightly for the young woman before her to continue.

At Minerva's motion, Hermione began again, "I have a daughter named Aislinn Granger. She is twelve years old and was previously enrolled at Beauxbatons as Aislinn Greene. If I am to accept this position, she must be allowed to attend Hogwarts as a second year student."

The Headmistress gave another slight nod and Hermione plowed forward, "In addition, I will require a second bedroom in my quarters to allow for Aislinn to stay when she wishes. She is not familiar with the students here and will be moving away from the friends she does have. I wish to make this transition as seamless as possible for her."

When the Headmistress opened her mouth to speak, Hermione quickly held up her hand to forestall her acquiescence. "My final condition," she added, "is that if anything should happen to Aislinn while attending Hogwarts that causes her to require medical attention, she is only to be examined or treated by Gabrielle Delacour of St. Mungo's."

"Aislinn is very close to Miss Delacour, and she has cared for her as her physician since before Aislinn was born." With this, Hermione motioned for Minerva to respond to her requests.

Minerva made a conscious effort to set aside her continuing shock regarding Hermione's child. "I have no problem with meeting these requests, Miss Granger. However, Aislinn will need to be tested before she can be sorted and placed into classes."

Seeing that Hermione was about to object, Minerva quickly added, "I can do the testing here myself on Monday morning. It will only take about thirty minutes and I can assure you it will only include standard first year spells to ensure that she is ready to continue her education here at Hogwarts."

Not at all assured by the fact that the Headmistress herself would be doing Aislinn's testing, Hermione uncharacteristically shrugged her shoulders in acquiescence. "If it is necessary, I will bring Aislinn by your office for testing prior to settling in on Monday morning."

Recognizing the young woman's response as an acceptance of the offered position, the Headmistress allowed the corners of her lips to turn up into an almost smile. "Excellent, Miss Granger. Let us just go over the expectations for lesson plans and your specific duties as the Gryffindor Head of House and I will let you get back home to your daughter."

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Six figures sat around the edge of a large conference table in a locked room used by the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. Harry Potter and Arthur Weasley sat at the opposite heads and were joined by Kylie Monkstanley, Tyberius Everly, Ronald Weasley, and Teddy Lupin. Together, the six of them represented the ministry's "last line of defense".

The mood in the air was somber as the group sat quietly contemplating what Kylie and Tyberius had relayed regarding their questioning of Orion Denaught and Michael Rowle. As Arthur reached into his robe pocket and removed a duplicate recording of the missing prophecy, the air in the room seemed to hum with energy. Placing the replica on the table, he tapped the top with his wand and Luna Lovegood's eerie voice permeated the silence.

_"The time has come for the ultimate weapon to be created. The six texts that provide the method can be found beneath the castle near the church where first blood was drawn. The center will be found in the heart of the Red. Birthed from the two most powerful, only the Red will suffice for the weapon's completion. Its owner will determine the fate of the world."_

When the glow surrounding the small translucent blue orb had dissipated, Harry shifted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and was the first to speak, "We have to break down this prophecy and figure out what it means. It is likely that any further interrogation of the Society of Blood members will end in the same manner, so it is imperative that we find another advantage."

Teddy Lupin ran a large and calloused hand slowly through his now vibrant green hair that had grown well past his chin. His matching green eyes flashed with evidence of his introspection before his rough voice filled the room, "The texts mentioned clearly hold key information required to create the weapon. From what we have gathered in our reconnaissance, most people believe the weapon to be a wand of some sort."

Taking a moment to organize his thoughts once more, Teddy paused briefly and then cleared his throat before continuing, "The person who stole the prophecy must understand the meaning of '_where first blood was drawn_'. If we can find someone who understands this portion of the prophecy, we will be much closer to finding a way to impede the society's efforts."

Ron, building on Teddy's foundation, slammed his hand down on the table and added, "Blimey! If it's a wand they are creatin', then the center would be the core. But '_birthed from the two most powerful'_ what exactly? If it's in a heart of '_the Red'_ could it be a dragon heartstring?"

Sighing loudly at the man's outburst, Kylie rebutted his theory, "I don't think we are looking for a dragon. You didn't see Rowle's face. Whatever we are looking for, it is far more sinister. I suggest we work on figuring out the location and go from there." As she finished, her partner Tyberius nodded his agreement without comment.

Having heard enough for the evening, Arthur Weasley promptly dismissed the assembled group, silently wondering to himself how to proceed with this investigation, and reluctantly, how long it would be before the Order of the Phoenix would need to be reassembled to fight yet another war.

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Soft earth easily gave way beneath sensitive paws as the grey tabby cat bounded through the depths of the Forbidden Forest. Cool evening air gusted through course fur as the small cat increased her pace, racing along a path that she had traveled countless times before. Calmed by the eerie sounds of the evening forest, the feline let a slight purr rumble forth from her chest as she continued her journey.

Even moving at such a quick pace, Minerva was able to take in the familiar sights and sounds with the same hint of reverence she had held for the forest since she had first explored its depths as a student of Hogwarts. The gentle sway of the leaves in the wind combined with the faint sounds of rushing water created a symphony of sorts when compounded with the voices of countless species of animals settling in for the night.

Nearing her destination, the cat slowed her gait before stepping around the trunk of a large and gnarled tree. Beyond the old tree she reached a small clearing that managed to remain dark due to the dense canopy coverage from the surrounding foliage. Now the small cat slowed further still, meandering up to her long time friend to be sure he was not startled.

As she reached a blackened hoof, the cat instinctively curled herself around a long leg, letting out a small meow as if to say hello. The great beast above her lowered its head in question and upon seeing recognizing the animal, let out a slight screech as if to return the greeting.

Stepping out from beneath the large thestral, Minerva McGonagall reverted to her human form, simultaneously reaching out a hand to stroke the large horse's neck. "Good evening, Tenebrus," she stated softly as she continued running her long and elegant fingers along the boney protrusions of his jaw.

Tenebrus, uncharacteristically conformable with this human whom he had known since the day he was born, bowed slightly in acknowledgement of the witch's greeting. Recognizing the gesture for the welcome that it was, Minerva took several steps backwards before settling herself onto the base of a fallen log and daintily crossing her ankles and twining her fingers in her lap.

The woman gazed at the beast who slowly neared her and bent to lay himself among the foliage at her feet. "I know it has been many days since my last visit. Lately I seem to find myself becoming increasingly occupied by the business of the school. I cannot stay long tonight, I am afraid, but I had to come. I find myself quite troubled."

Minerva knew that though the creature could likely not directly understand her words, he could certainly sense her feelings. They had been close ever since the colt was born and she had sat with him through his first night in the forest. She had visited him nearly weekly since, and they shared a bond that brought her peace and settled her spirit, even on some of her more restless nights.

The dark coated beast ruffled then settled his wings and cocked his head slightly to the side as if to urge the woman before him to continue. Watching her face shift and content that she would explain, Tenebrus lowered his head to listen to her troubles.

The woman brought her hands to her face and rubbed gently as if trying to wipe away a fog. Releasing a soft sigh, she began to explain, "I met with Hermione today, to offer her a position at the school. I know that I have told you of her before." A light huff signified Tenebrus' agreement with her statement.

A melancholy expression washed over Minerva's features as she continued, "I like to believe that we were close once, just after she had left Hogwarts. Even after that, we always kept in touch." She paused as she considered when the communication between her and the younger woman had ceased.

"It was maybe a little over thirteen years ago, when the letters stopped all together. In fact, it was just before she moved to France. Of course, I continued to write for several months, but none of my letters were ever returned. The one offering her the position was the first one that I am even quite sure that she received."

The dark lines and sunken eyes that indicated the woman's sadness somehow deepened. "Then today. I cannot even describe it, Tenebrus. It was as if she was someone else entirely. Gone were any traces of my once friend." A sound somewhere between a sigh and a sob released from her chest as her shoulders shook ever so slightly.

"Hermione was always so warm, so… kind. In my office today she just seemed… cold. As if a light within her had gone out and all heat it had provided had been slowly sapped away. She even told me she preferred Miss Granger," she almost whispered into the forest night as she shook her head from side to side. "I know that should not affect me. I doubt it was even personal, but I find that it cut into me in a way that I could never have expected."

Upon uttering that last admittance, all of the woman's mighty resolve seemed to fail her as sobs began to wrack her body. She cried for her lost friendship, but most importantly, she cried for a woman who had lost something that had seemed to be so essential to the wonderful person that she was.

In the darkest depths of the forest, amidst a blackened night, a keening shriek could be heard throughout the trees as a lone thestral shared the grief of the woman who had always cared for him.

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**A/N - I am so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! This story is much more involved and complicated than Nick of Time, so I'll probably be updating that one more frequently, but I am working on this one and have already outlined the next chapter. Reviews are wonderful!**


	5. Chapter 5

August 28th, 2017 (Monday) -

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With a sharp, staccato pop two witches landed in front of the aged wrought-iron gates of Hogwarts castle. Immediately, a second pop followed as a thin house elf with droopy ears and bright blue eyes appeared in from of the two women.

"Professor Granger and Miss Aislinn, yes?" the small elf queried.

Instinctively, Hermione wrapped one arm around her daughter to keep her close before replying, "Yes, we are here to see the Headmistress this morning. What is your name?"

The house elf gave a slight bow and smiled winningly up at the witch, "My name is Brynie, and I am the Headmistress' elf. I was asked to show you both to your rooms, and then escort young Miss Aislinn to the mistress' office. Follow me."

With that, the elf shuffled off towards the castle, not pausing to wait and ensure that the two witches were following. Hermione turned to glance at Aislinn, whose eyes were wide with wonder as she took in the castle grounds. Grabbing her hand and urging her forward, they continued after the elf and up to their shared rooms in silence.

Upon reaching the portrait of Godric Gryffindor, Brynie again turned to Hermione, "There is no password currently set. Simply let Godric know what you wish to use. If you would like breakfast, or are in need of any other assistance, you may call Kyna. She will be your house elf while you remain at Hogwarts."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest being appointed her own personal elf, but before she could begin her protestations, Brynie had already gathered Aislinn and was heading back in the opposite direction to the Headmistress' office. "Come with me," the elf clearly directed while pulling the young witch along the corridors. Without turning around, the elf called out to the witch they were leaving behind, "I will return her as soon as the testing has completed. Please, take your time to settle in before lunch."

As the young witch followed her guide through the long castle corridors, her eyes were busy cataloging the details of her journey. Each portrait, stone, and torch were burned into her memory as she realized that her reading in Hogwarts: A History had not nearly done the institution justice. Walking through the castle was like being inside living magic, she could feel the signatures of so many wizards and witches radiating outward from the walls.

She had been so caught up in her analysis of her surroundings that the girl had failed to notice their arrival at their destination until her thoughts were interrupted by a smooth Scottish lilt, "Welcome, Miss Granger."

The words rolling off of the Headmistress' tongue felt wrong somehow as she remembered using those same words to greet the girl's mother so many years before. The older witch exhaled slowly to rid herself of the memories of a much younger Hermione and continued, "It is very nice to meet you, are you ready for the testing? I promise to get through it as quickly as possible so that you can rejoin your mother before lunch."

Wide green eyes full of emotion latched on to their match as Aislinn cocked her head to the side in thought. A strange feeling of familiarity washed over her looking at the older witch, but she couldn't manage to place it. Deciding to ignore the odd sensation for the moment, she spoke softly, "You may call me Aislinn, Headmistress, as I have never liked Miss Granger. As for the testing, I am quite looking forward to it."

She flashed her signature chesire cat grin at the Headmistress and the woman was momentarily stunned at the likeness between the young girl and her mother. Quickly recovering, she returned the smile and added, "Wonderful. I will ask you a few questions about potions and herbology subjects, and then we will move on to practical tests for charms, defense, and transfiguration."

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Barely an hour later, Minerva was pleased but not surprised when Aislinn had tested at or above a fifth year level for four of the five subjects; the girl could likely take her O.W.L.s tomorrow and receive 'Outstanding's in every subject. With only transfiguration remaining, the Headmistress was intrigued to see the young woman's skill level considering her mother's extensive talent in the field.

"As I am aware that Professor Granger will have tutored you in transfiguration, I will let you decide how we proceed with this portion of the testing. Either I can asked you the questions relevant to the more advanced years, or you may provide a demonstration of the most advanced skills that you know in this subject."

The young witch hesitated for a moment as she considered the fact that she had always been told not to reveal her proficiency for transfiguration to anyone outside of the family. Her mother had informed her that this was for her protection, as some people may not understand how a girl of her age had been able to master such complex magic. However, this was the Headmistress of her new school, and as such, she wanted to make sure that she impressed her.

Decision made, Aislinn informed the Headmistress, "I would like to give you a brief demonstration of my skills in the subject." Headmistress McGonagall took several steps backwards and took a seat in a high-backed black chair and motioned for her to begin.

"I will begin with seventh year technique and work my way up from that point," Aislinn explained before beginning her exercises. Minerva, startled by the girl's statement and the confidence with which it resonated could only watch on in fascination.

With complete silence, the brunette focused her bright green eyes on the empty room and waved her wand through the air in an elegant series of flicks. As she did so, a series of birds began to appear. Birds of all kinds were conjured from thin air as the girl proceeded: magpie, swallow, raven, crow, sparrow, pigeon, and finally a small eagle. Reversing her movements, Aislinn vanished each bird with ease.

Next the young woman held her wand out and tapped it gently against the top of her head, causing her chestnut curls to turn black and straighten to fall down her back. Tapping just between her nose, her eyes altered to an almond and honey color that closely resembled the girl's mother's. As before, with another simple flick the changes were reversed.

Grinning at the look of shock on the Headmistress' face, Aislinn continued on encouraged. "Next is first level transfiguration mastery. Inanimate to animate with large variations in subject mass and reverse."

The acacia wood wand whizzed through the air again and the teacup the had been resting on the Headmistress' desk glided to the floor, only to be replaced seconds later by a broad shouldered and regal looking lion. Opening its massive jaws, the lion roared and shook its mane before being returned to its previous status as a teacup.

Aislinn spoke again, breaking the silence of her wordless incantations. "Second level transfiguration mastery, the art of becoming an animagus." Without raising her wand, the young woman vanished. A sharp gasp escaped Minerva's chest as she glanced down at the carpet to take in the beautiful red fox with its dark crimson tail. The fox was sitting on its hind quarters and yipped with pride before reverting back into the human form of Aislinn Granger.

Believing the young woman to be finished, the Headmistress opened her mouth to speak. She swallowed her words as Aislinn held out her hand and spoke in a much softer voice, almost as if she was afraid to continue with the display. "Third level transfiguration mastery, the ability to permanently transform objects at a molecular level rather than simply using transfiguration."

Digging into her pocket, Aislinn grabbed a small pebble that she carried with her and tossed it into the air. Minerva's eyes were wide with surprise as she gazed on, the small pebble seeming to unravel before her eyes. The young witches wand moved rapidly, unwinding the molecular structure of the rock and reforming it. When she had finished, the newly created emerald landed softly in the elder witch's hands.

"I realize that you cannot actually see that I was successful in my task, but you are welcome to attempt to reverse the transfiguration. I assure you that you will find that it cannot simply be transfigured, but would need to be transformed to return to its prior state."

Seeing that the Headmistress was stood stock still and had not yet attempted to reverse the spell, Aislinn became quite scared. She let out a small nervous laugh and added, "I learned to do that so that I could assist my mom with her research. I realize that I shouldn't know that as I am not of age to register my mastery, but you did say to show you what I am able to do."

Feeling that she may have somehow disappointed the woman, Aislinn's bright eyes began to glass over with unshed tears. This display of emotion pulled the Headmistress from her stunned state and without thinking she reached forward and enveloped the young woman in her arms. "Miss Granger… Aislinn, you are an incredible young witch, and I am sure that Professor Granger could not possibly be more proud of what you have accomplished."

As the Headmistress' arms wrapped around her, a strong sense of security blanketed the young woman. Recognizing the feeling of complete protection that she felt her mother held her, Aislinn Granger did what she had only done with one other person in her life; she closed her eyes and relaxed into the embrace.

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With heavy bandages constricting the moving of his right arm and most of his torso, Bill Weasley was unable to directly assist with the deactivating the blood wards preventing entry to the dungeon below Coity Castle. Two new curse breakers, Brenda Pendleton and Marcus Harrison, had joined the excavation team early that morning and were currently assisting Fleur while Bill directed the trio in how best to proceed.

"Okay, Brenda, once Marcus and Fleur have finished unweaving the wards you will need to send a test jolt forward while they hold them to see if we will be able to enter the dungeon without further complication."

Brenda nodded her confirmation as she focused on the intricate movements that Marcus and Fleur's wands were weaving. She could see a pulsing glow coming from the heavy door guarding the dungeon and was aware that she would have to act quickly as the wards were about to come undone.

"Right, on my mark… three, two, one!"

"Protego maxima!" Brenda shouted, throwing a large shield around the group of curse breakers before sending a bombarda spell directly at the entrance. The four curse breakers ducked as the door exploded from the hinges and debris bounced off of the barely holding shield charm.

When the dust from the explosion had settled, Bill looked up towards the entryway to see that where the door had previously been standing, a translucent glowing red wall now guarded the dungeon. The curse breakers stared on surprised by the new impediment as a female voice boomed forth from beyond the barrier.

"Entrance to the sanctum is restricted to those whose blood runs pure. Prove your worth by spilling that which is most sacred or be put to your end."

Understanding what was being asked of them, Bill Weasley stepped forward while withdrawing a small pocketknife from his ratty jeans. He held the knife out to his wife and then extended his hand. Pale blue eyes looked up into darker blue for confirmation before Fleur held the blade firmly within her grasp and sliced through the offered flesh.

Moving beyond the rest of the group, Bill placed his broken skin up against the translucent wall and watched as his blood was drained, spreading in an intricate design across the space. When the lines reached the edges of the opening, the latest barrier vanished and the voice that had spoken sounded again, "Only the pure may enter. You have proven your worth, proceed."

Holding his breath, Bill Weasley slowly took three tentative steps forward, crossing the threshold and entering the area that held the dungeons. When he was fully within the hidden rooms, the man released the breath that he had been holding and turned to face the other curse breakers. "Go fetch Sebastian and I will join you once he is here. I don't want anyone that isn't pureblood near this room. We have no idea what traps may be waiting for anyone who defies remaining wards."

By the time Travers had entered the dungeons, Bill had taken a quick look around. The dungeons were entirely empty, save for a sofa sized withered old trunk that was sat in the center of a single cell. The trunk was heavily warded, but they were lasting house wards and as such could not be broken without the descendant. When he informed the older man of the remaining block, he was quickly dismissed and told that he would no longer be needed as his requirements for the excavation had been completed.

Once the last of the curse breakers had vacated the dungeons, Travers ran a wrinkled and bony hand through mussed gray hair as pale blue eyes greedily took in the surface of the large trunk. He ran one finger over the lock and felt a magic pulse push against its tip. This was what Amelia had been looking for and he had found it. He had completed the mission days ahead of schedule and would personally deliver the trunk to her so that he could collect what was sure to be a handsome reward.

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Hermione took a long sip from the warm mango green tea that Kyna had brought with lunch. Glancing over the rim of the glass, the woman saw that her daughter had barely touched the turkey sandwich that she had requested. Concerned that the girl's sudden lack of appetite may have stemmed from her morning meeting with the Headmistress, she delicately inquired.

"How was your testing with the Headmistress, honey?"

The young woman knew she would have to tell her mother about her transfiguration testing eventually as the Headmistress was bound to discuss the results of the testing with her, but that she had been determined to avoid the confrontation for as long as possible. Sighing in resignation, Aislinn began carefully.

"The testing went well. Headmistress McGonagall said that I tested at fifth year or higher for every subject. I know I still have to be placed in second year courses, but she did say I could take independent study for any course that I would like provided the professor agreed."

"You know how I feel about that, Aislinn…" Hermione began, bringing her thumb and index finger to the bridge of her nose, "I will be happy to instruct you in any subject that you wish to learn, but I don't think it is wise to draw attention to your abilities by requesting that the other professors tutor you in advanced studies."

"Mom, the Headmistress said…"

"Let's get one thing clear, young lady," Hermione interrupted, frustration clearly present in her narrowed honey eyes, "Though she may be your Headmistress, all decisions regarding your education will be made by me, and me alone."

When Aislinn bowed her head and her bushy curls sprung forward to guard her face, the woman couldn't help the shot of remorse that began coursing through her veins. She stood and walked over to the young woman, wrapping her arms around her daughters small frame.

"Darling, I'm sorry," she reached out and placed a hand under the young witch's chin, lifting until she was able to look into her eyes. "You know I am just doing what I can to ensure your safety."

"Your… father," she stumbled on the word, "he was a very powerful wizard. The war was not so long ago, and there are still people out there who will use any means necessary to gain the power that they seek. You are an incredible witch, and I am so very proud of you baby, but if people knew what you are capable of, it could be used to determine your heritage. I can't risk you getting hurt, Aislinn. You are my only family, I cannot lose you."

The young witch's hardened expression softened at the heartfelt declaration. Her mother had explained her reasoning before, but it always reminded her of what the brave woman had been through before she was born. She had heard the stories of the war with Voldemort, her mother's time on the run, and the final battle at Hogwarts and she hoped that the wizarding world would never have to experience anything like that again. Realistically though, Aislinn knew it was just a matter of time.

Thinking back to her testing that morning, guilt bubbled up in her chest at having directly disregarded her mother's requests. "Mom," she almost whispered, "This morning… I…"

"What is it, Aislinn? Did something happen? Did the Headmistress upset you?"

"No, it wasn't her fault. We got to the transfiguration testing and I… well, I showed her what I can do." Seeing the anger returning to her mother's eyes, the young girl pleaded, "Please, mom, don't be mad. She guessed that you had tutored me, and she gave me the option between the standard testing or giving her a demonstration. It was my choice."

"What, exactly, did you demonstrate?"

Aislinn mumbled something under her breath that could not even have been picked up by the keenest animagus hearing. "Aislinn, now."

Covering her face with small hands, the young witch spoke slightly more clearly, "I showed her my mastery levels… all three of them."

"I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT WOMAN!" Hermione bolted up from her position on the armrest and raced toward the portrait of Godric Gryffindor. Turning just before she left their quarters, the woman added through clenched teeth, "Stay here and finish your lunch, Aislinn, I will be back as soon as this has been handled."

The young woman cringed at the tone in her mother's voice. It had been almost two years since the last time that someone had found out about her mastery of transfiguration. She furrowed her brow and closed her eyes as she remembered the screaming match that had ensued, and that had been her Aunt Gabby.

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Unbridled rage coursed through Hermione Granger's veins as she stormed towards the Headmistress' office. Sensing the woman's ire, the gargoyles jumped aside without waiting for her to reach them or recite the password. Her magic lashed out and the large oak door burst open before she could even grab hold of the handle.

"What in Merlin's name…" the Headmistress started before she saw the face of the woman who had barged into her office. Her voice trailed off at the look of pure hatred in her former student's eyes.

"HOW DARE YOU?!"

The woman was seething with anger as she rounded on the witch who had caused nothing but problems in her life. "You think that just because you are the great Minerva McGonagall you can treat my daughter like some insignificant lab rat! Well let me tell you, that was the last mistake that you will EVER make with her, am I PERFECTLY clear?"

Minerva felt herself bristle at the tone of the woman's voice, her stoic mask now firmly in place to deal with the current crisis. As softly as she could manage to demand the woman's attention, her voice cut across the room, "What exactly is it that you believe that I have done, Professor Granger?"

At the question, the younger woman threw her head back and let out a full on cackle. "Oh, that's rich even for you, Minerva. You have got to be kidding me. You know what, it does not even matter. You will tell no one what you know, or it will be the last thing that you do. I quit."

With that, the woman spun on her heel and made to exit the office without another word. "Aresto Momentum!" rang out through the room in a booming Scottish voice that would cause even the most confident of persons to tremble. Unable to move any further, Hermione attempted to continue her rant, "Just what do you think…"

"SILENCIO!"

The younger witch's eyes widened in shock as she realized that not only was she stuck in place, she could no longer speak to voice her objection to the treatment. Again a much softer voice lashed out at her, cutting through her thoughts, "As you have apparently become incapable of having a civil conversation, Professor Granger, I will speak and you will listen. Nod if we are clear."

Reluctantly, Hermione nodded her affirmation. Minerva continued, "I am not entirely sure what caused you to barge into my office like a madwoman at war, but I can only assume that it has to do with the transfiguration portion of young Aislinn's testing this morning. Is that correct?"

Another nod.

"In that case, I would like to inform you that your daughter offered to show me what she was capable of in relation to the subject. As for your threat, I must admit to being quite offended. I do not know who you believe I would tell of the young woman's gifts. In fact, I most surely understand her predicament as Professor Dumbledore himself protected _me_ from detection when I achieved my second level mastery prior to finishing _my_ schooling."

"As for your belief that you will be resigning your position as transfiguration professor, I would like to kindly remind you that you are under binding contract. Now, if I were to release you, would you be willing to continue this conversation in a more civilized manner?"

Another nod. "Very well." Minerva waved her hand and Hermione immediately regained her ability to walk and speak. "Please, _Professor_ Granger, have a seat."

"Minerva, I…"

"Actually, I prefer Headmistress," Minerva responded, letting her outrage at Hermione's behavior get the best of her, "Do not bother with insincere apologies. I neither require nor desire them."

"I _am _sorry, Headmistress," Hermione sighed, running her still shaking hands through chestnut tresses. "You have to understand. My daughter, she… she is all that I have. I would do anything to protect her."

The Headmistress' face softened as she took in the sincerity of the younger woman and observed the worry lines creasing along her forehead. _What is Hermione afraid of? _"I can certainly understand your concern, Professor, but surely you know that you can trust me. I have always protected my students and, though it has been many years since we have truly spoken, I would believe you to know that I would do anything to keep them from hurt or harm."

_I believe that once, _she thought cynically. "I never should have brought her back to England. I do apologize for my behavior, Headmistress. I assure you that it will not happen again." Hermione stood and turned to leave but was stalled by a hand that had been placed delicately on her arm.

Minerva's lilt was again present and all edge had been removed from her voice as she attempted to reassure the young woman, "I will help you protect her, Hermione."

The young woman bowed her head and continued out of the office with a whisper that was not even detectable by the older woman's sharp animagus hearing, "What if it was you that I was trying to protect her from?"

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Sebastian Travers sat restlessly on a large crimson upholstered settee in the sitting room of the Lizot mansion. Visiting the home of the leader of La Societe de Sang had always unnerved him due to the deep red color of the walls. The color was clearly not achievable by paint, and he had always believed that the walls of the mansion had been lined with the spilt blood of the Lizot family's enemies.

A hooded figure entered the room and a low raspy voice whispered across the room from unseen lips, "I trust you have not failed me again, Travers."

Travers quickly stood, hands shaking as he pointed to the ancient trunk in the middle of the room. His voice broke as he responded, "No… No, Miss Lizot. We successfully extracted the trunk. I was assured that he only remaining obstacle barring entry to it are the blood wards from your family line."

Tall black heels clicked against dark wood floors as Amelia crossed the room to the cowering man. "What of the church, did you recover anything there?" The woman reached out with a long nailed finger and trailed the sharpened tip across a scratchy jaw line.

"Yes, ma'am. There was a portrait of Lisette de Lapin, though it was heavily damaged by the fire that burned the church down several centuries ago. The wards on the painting held it together, but it will need to be repaired." The man shrank backwards, pale blue eyes falling to the floor and away from red-specked gray.

"In that case, there is just one small matter remaining…" the woman chuckled manically as she rounded on the man once more. "When I entrust you with a task, I expect perfection. Mistakes are never tolerated, and I always find out. Do you understand, Sebastian?"

The elderly man was unable to speak as his throat dried from terror. He gave one short nod, not raising his eyes to the woman before him before he heard the scream, "CRUCIO!"

Amelia watched on gleefully as the insignificant peasant's body writhed in pain on the floor. She held the curse, determined to burn the lesson into his flesh lest it be forgotten. After more than a minute had passed by, she released him, blood already beginning to spill forth from his lips. "The next time you disappoint me, Sebastian, you will not survive it."

"Guillaume, remove this sniveling excuse of a man from my home, and ensure that he has not permanently damaged my wood floors," she snapped as she walked over to the trunk that the man had delivered from the excavation in Wales.

The cloaked woman reverently ran her fingers over the distressed leather exterior before taking the tip of her index finger between her teeth and biting down until she tasted the sweet and metallic flavor. Placing her finger back on the surface, she moved swiftly to adorn the trunk with her family motto, 'Toujours Pur'.

When she had completed spelling out the French phrase, the latch holding the trunk closed clicked open and the seam began to glow a brilliant red. Amelia bent down and gently lifted the lid, opening the container to reveal six thick ancient tomes. The woman allowed her left hand to skim across the spines before removing a single text, pulling back the cover guarding the contents within.

Though these texts belonged to her family, she would not be able to read them. The entire collection was scrawled in hand inked ancient runes. _No matter, _the woman mused as she placed the thick volume back into its place with the others, _I will have my answers soon enough._

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Sprawled out across her new four poster bed in the room that she had in her mother's quarters, Aislinn held a small black leather journal in her hands. She reached into the drawer of her nightstand and grabbed the quill she had unpacked earlier in the afternoon. Thinking over the time that she had spent so far in the castle, the young girl began to write.

_28.8.17 - My First Day At Hogwarts_

_The castle is much more vast than I had imagined. I have only managed to explore a small sampling of the corridors, and already I can see how easily I could lose my way. From my window, I can see the forbidden forest at the edge of the grounds. I long to explore there, but mom has said that I cannot go alone._

_I met the Headmistress shortly after I arrived. Her name is Minerva McGonagall, and she is a transfiguration master just like my parents. She also comes from Scotland, like my father did. She has a slight accent that affects her normal speech patterns, but it appears to become more prevalent when she is concerned._

_She tested me in the subjects that I will be taking this year to determine my current skill levels. I believe that I greatly exceeded her expectations, particularly in transfiguration. I showed her almost everything I know. That may have been a mistake; mom was very angry. She went to meet with the Headmistress after I told her, and when she returned she looked like she had been crying, but wouldn't tell me what had happened._

_She's crying now, in fact. I think she believes I cannot hear her, but ever since mastering my animagus form, my hearing is much more focused than it was before. I heard her whisper something about how I need two parents when she was heading off to her room. I wonder if she misses him. I wish that I had known him._

Aislinn reached into the back of the journal and removed a folded and worn photo that her mother had given her when she was several years younger. She had asked what her father had looked like and Hermione had retrieved the one photo that she had of him from the bottom of her drawer.

Unbeknownst to Aislinn, the photo actually showed Minerva standing in a field of heather on lush hills near a loch, but had been altered so that the witch in the picture appeared to be a much younger wizard instead. The young woman stroked a single finger over the small angular face before continuing to put her thoughts to paper.

_Mom has always told me that he was a very powerful and well known wizard. I wonder if the Headmistress knew him._

The girl closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to drift to the stern yet compassionate woman for a moment, picturing her bright eyes, pale skin, dark hair, and high cheekbones.

_They look so similar, it is quite surprising. They almost look as if they could be family. Is that why mom never spoke of the Headmistress? When I asked Uncle George about Hogwarts, he told me that they had once been friends. Does she remind mom too much of my father? Is that what happened to the friendship that they had?_

Contemplating the final question, Aislinn closed her diary, resolving to ask the Headmistress if she had known her father at the next opportunity. She knew far too little of the man that had captured her mother's heart, and it was about time that she began to search for answers.

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Two spirals of crimson mist tore through the evening air in a flurry, twisting and swirling amongst the blackened sky. As they approached a small cottage, the mist solidified into the two figures of Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson, members of La Societe de Sang. The duo had been given this mission by Amelia Lizot herself, as a chance to prove their loyalty to the cause. Failure was not an option.

Pansy moved to step forward but was stopped by the pull of Daphne's hand on the back of her robes. The blonde woman reached down to grab a stick from ground and tossed it in front of the other witch. The stick hit and invisible wall and then incinerated, falling through the air as a stream of ash.

"The Blishen family has always warded their properties," Daphne whispered. "No doubt Yuri will be alerted to our presence the moment we cross."

Hazel eyes quickly took inventory of their surroundings before the brunette questioned her partner, "I assume you have a strategy planned?"

The younger witch snickered and smirked at Pansy, "Don't you know, I always have a very thorough strategy." The woman winked before she began to walk along the perimeter, hand held out to feel the pulsing magic of the wards. After almost one hundred yards, the witch stopped in her tracks.

"Here is where the wards are weakest, Yuri apparates daily from just beyond the bounds. I can break them, but he will know as soon as it is done."

"Do it. We can handle an old runes master."

Daphne raised her dragon heartstring wand and drug the tip over the wards, swirling it through the shimmering magic as she mumbled a complex string of Latin. After several minutes of intricate motions and whispered words, the wards pulsed brighter before vanishing in a flash of light. "He knows we are here, be ready."

Inside the cottage, Yuri Blishen looked up from the text that he had been translating as he felt the magic of his wards break, indicating an intrusion. Whipping his wand out from his sleeve, the man crouched beneath a window, slowly rising just above the wall line to take a look across his lawn. Though they were more than fifty yards from the door to his cottage, Yuri could clearly make out two dark forms advancing at a rapid pace, wands drawn.

The elder man waited until the figures had almost reached the house before shooting a bombarda spell at the ground beneath the women's feet. Both witches were thrown backwards into the air and only the quick, "Protego!" shouted out by Pansy managed to block the incoming hexes as the wizard advanced on their position.

Running for cover behind the nearest tree, Daphne motioned for Pansy to distract the runes master while she snuck up on him from behind. At Pansy's nod, the witch vanished into mist and made her way around the back of the cottage, desperately hoping that her plan would prove successful.

Once her partner had cleared the side of the small residence, Pansy rushed from behind the stone garden wall, dodging errant hexes from the man as she advanced. Her first cast of the cruciatus curse was on target, and would have connected had the man not managed a last second shield charm, reflecting the curse off into the darkness.

Seeing the young witch pause while waiting for the curse to connect, Yuri took what would be his only opportunity. "Sectumsempra!" Pansy raised her wand to shield herself moments too late and watched in horror as the curse sliced through her skin.

The rune master's victory was short lived as Pansy's partner had taken that moment to lash out in retaliation for the damage that he had done, "CRUCIO!"

Yuri's vision faded and pressure built inside his head as his knees buckled causing him to fall forward to the ground. He managed to raise his trembling hands to his graying hair attempting to ease the pain before Daphne twisted her wand in fury, intensifying the spell.

The last thing that the man heard before the unbearable pain robbed him of his consciousness was the young witch's vehement voice as she shouted while running towards her bleeding lover, "You will pay for what you have done to her, Yuri! Amelia will make sure of it!"

Crouched next to Pansy's cold form, Daphne held the woman's face in her left hand as she moved her wand over her torso and muttered the counter-curse. While she watched the blood slowly flow backwards into the brunette's veins, she vowed that if her lover did not recover, Yuri would die before he even met Amelia, regardless of the consequences.

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Though the hospital was empty, Poppy Pomfrey was still sat at her small metal desk in the glass walled office at the head of the wing. She popped the stopper off of a small blue vial and downed the headache potion in one go, careful not to let the liquid linger on her taste buds. The woman had always enjoyed her job, but going over the medical records of the new students prior to the start of term was a task that could at best be labeled tedious.

Just as the woman was about to open the next file, _Scorpius Malfoy, _she read, the doors to the hospital wing creaked open and a weary looking Headmistress strode into the room. "Minerva, what brings you all the way out to this side of the castle so late in the evening? Do you need a sleeping draught?"

The Headmistress waved off the mediwitch's question rubbed a thin hand across her face, demonstrating just how exhausted she truly was. "No, Poppy, thank you. I wanted to come to discuss one of the incoming students with you."

"Oh, I haven't quite finished going over the first year files. I was just working on that when you arrived." The woman reached for the remaining files on her desk, wondering which student the Headmistress had come to discuss at such an hour.

"The student is not a first year, she will be coming in a second year as a transfer from Beauxbaton's. Her name is Aislinn Granger."

"Granger… as in Hermione Granger? I knew she was coming on as the new transfiguration professor, Minerva, but I wasn't aware that she had a daughter…"

The Headmistress' shoulders visibly slumped as she let out a soft sigh, "Nor was I."

Raising a hand to forestall a barrage of questions from the ever curious woman, Minerva continued, "I actually came here to discuss her medical arrangements with you. Professor Granger has requested that should an incident arise, the girl is to be taken directly to St. Mungo's for treatment by Healer Gabrielle Delacour. Apparently Miss Delacour has been treating young Aislinn since Hermione's pregnancy."

Poppy scoffed at the notion, "What does Hermione have against Hogwarts care? I certainly treated that young woman plenty of times while she was here as a student…"

Again the Headmistress cut the woman off before she could finish her tirade, "It is not a personal slight, Poppy. She simply wants Aislinn to be treated by someone that she knows. From what I have gathered, the girl is quite reserved and does not easily take to strangers."

The mediwitch visibly relaxed upon hearing the woman's explanation. However, something about the entire situation still seemed… off, "What of the girl's father?"

In a rare lapse, Minerva allowed words to leave her mouth before pausing to think of the consequences, "Your guess is as good as mine." Listening to the words as they left her lips, the woman shook her head and frowned, "I do not mean that as it sounded. All that Professor Granger told me was that the man died before her daughter was born."

"Aislinn had said that he was a transfiguration master like her mother, but I pulled the master records and not a single registered member died in the year prior to the young woman's birth. I just…" the woman sighed heavily and rested her head on her right hand, "I'm just not sure what I am missing."

Poppy leaned back in her chair and her brows furrowed as she contemplated the information that the Headmistress had given her. She could not imagine the young woman that she had treated as a student lying about her daughter's heritage, and she highly doubted that her young daughter would misinform the Headmistress herself.

Thinking back over the conversation, Poppy realized that Minerva had not mentioned Hermione giving her any additional information, "Why have you not asked Professor Granger for the name of the girl's father? The two of you were always quite close while she was a student here…"

At this, the proud and venerable Headmistress visibly sank into her chair, almost as if the woman was curling in on herself, "I just can't Poppy, you don't understand." It was all that the woman could manage to not let the sobs that she felt welling inside her chest break free to wrack her frame in the presence of her long time friend, "You haven't seen the woman, Poppy. Hermione is no longer the bubbly and carefree young girl that we once knew."

"I do not presume to know what circumstances or events have changed her, but I swear to you that something has robbed that woman of her happiness, and I fear that she may never be the woman that I knew again."

Seeing the uncharacteristic sadness emanating from her closest friend, Poppy reached a delicate hand across the desk and placed it over Minerva's, giving a gentle squeeze to reassure her. "Hermione has always been a wonderful woman, Minerva. She will come around, I'm sure of it."

Minerva McGonagall, however, knew in her heart that those kind words meant to comfort her could not have been further from the truth.

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**TBC - Reviews are wonderful!**


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